Mirkwood's Plague
by Freddie23
Summary: A deserted town, a mysterious illness that affects the usually immune Elves and it is making its way toward Mirkwood via the Crown Prince. Now the devastated Woodland Elves must attempt to keep it at bay long enough for salvation to come. COMPLETE.
1. Ghost Town

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, folks. Sorry to disappoint.**

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 1 – Ghost Town**

Rumil looked stoically into the distance, simply amazed at what he was seeing. The once thriving Mirkwood town was now almost completely dead. The bustling market town now resembled more of a ghost town, devoid of people and animals. No noise came from within, just the gentle sound of the billowing of the flag being blown about in the gentle wind. They had been told something was wrong with this town but nothing could have prepared the Crown Prince of Mirkwood for seeing so many of his people dead. The whole town was like a huge graveyard, the streets strewn with bodies – eerily quiet.

No one spoke as they rode through the town on nervous, jittery mounts. It seemed fitting that just at that moment a soft rain began to drizzle on the town, washing away some of the troop's fear yet still leaving the stifling sense of unease.

Rumil dismounted his horse almost silently with the stealth only an Elf could possess and his troops quickly followed his example, having no intention of leaving their prince alone for even a second. Rumil was the oldest son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood and was next in line to be King of the Woodland Realm. He had begged his overprotective father to allow him to accompany the troop to this mysterious town. Thranduil, being amazingly protective over both his sons - Legolas being the younger of the two - had said no at first, just as Rumil had expected, not wanting his son and heir to leave the safety of the Mirkwood Palace. Rumil had calmly argued that if his younger brother could go on a quest to bring about the destruction of the Ring of Power then it was only fair that the older should be allowed to go on a simple scouting mission. Thranduil had finally relented and allowed his son to go, provided that a well armed group of warrior guards went with him. Rumil hadn't been happy about this but had agreed, knowing this would be his only chance of going.

There had been rumours about this small town and its jovial inhabitants for quite a while now; all sorts of explanations were put forwards by the people of Mirkwood, including some pretty bizarre and outright ridiculous ones. Rumil's current personal favourite was that the town had been taken over by evil shadowy creatures that were holding the town's people hostage via possession of their souls and were waiting for someone to offer a pure Elven sacrifice from Mirkwood. Legolas' favourite was that the Ring of Power was back and was controlling the people – impossible seeing as the artefact had been destroyed over a year ago. Thranduil, when he had heard these strange yet persistent rumours, was keen to put a stop to them and prove them wrong. The last thing they needed was panic settling in Mirkwood, not when darkness was beginning to fade. If nothing else the King wanted to find out what was really going on in the enigmatic town.

Rumil walked into the town square, his guards close behind him with their weapons raised ready to protect their prince from attack if necessary. The whole town was dead; no sounds, no signs of life, nothing. Rumil walked towards one of the dark houses giving the false impression that he was confident and trying to ignore the rotting bodies of the dead Elves he had to step around. In actual fact, he was terrified of what he might find inside. However, the last thing he wanted to do was cause more unrest amongst his people so he hid his fear, knowing just how contagious it could be.

He went to the nearest house, knocked briefly on the open door and walked in. Nothing. The place appeared to be empty. Rumil suppressed a sigh of relief as did most of the nervous guards who had followed him. Some went off to search the rest of the town for survivors on Rumil's order. As much as he wanted people around him the faster they got the job done the sooner they could leave. Still, he could feel that something wasn't quite right. He couldn't place it but there was something…

Suddenly, something moved in the far corner. The prince instantly grabbed his sword from his scabbard, all his senses alert and working to figure out what was going on and where the danger was. He looked around, hoping for some clue as to what it was that was watching them from inside the house.

He stepped further into the house and looked around properly, his eyesight and hearing alert for whatever was lurking inside the house. The thought that someone or something was stalking them had all the guards even more nervous.

Something moved again and this time it let out a pained and seemingly frightened shriek. The guards rushed towards the corner, weapons ready, intending to kill whatever horror had made the unearthly noise. They grabbed the thing and pulled it out into the open where Rumil could see it. It certainly wasn't what he expected.

It was small and probably starved from the look of its thin frame. Despite all the blood and mud that covered it Rumil could easily see that it was no monster but a young Elven child. Never before had Rumil seen anything in such a pitiful state. The girl, Rumil presumed it was a girl because of the small, dirty white dress she was wearing, was crying and struggling against the guards who were trying their best to carefully restrain her. Knowing that she wasn't a threat to their prince wasn't enough for them to let their guard down just yet. Still they tried to calm her down.

Rumil knelt down in front of her and gently encouraged her to look up at him.

"What happened here?" the prince asked when the child's cries had died down slightly. She looked blankly at him for a moment before resuming her crying. Rumil didn't even know if she knew what was going on or if she understood him. He didn't know what to do. He had had some practice looking after Legolas when he was young but that was centuries ago and now he really had no idea what he was doing. He looked to the guards to help but they all looked far too worried to notice. They just watched helplessly as Rumil tried to calm the distraught child down.

"It's alright. You're safe with us, I promise. We're here to help but you have to calm down," Rumil reasoned.

Much to his and the guards surprise the girl stopped her crying and stopped struggling with the guards who were still holding onto her to make sure she wouldn't suddenly run away. When she stopped her struggling the guards loosened their grips, allowing her to move a little more. Instead of running away like Rumil expected, the girl just stood and looked directly at him with huge, scared green eyes.

"What is your name?" the young prince asked, hoping the innocent question wouldn't send the girl into another fit of hysterics. Luckily, she just continued to look at him as if trying to work out whether to trust him or not.

"Leanna," she said eventually, a little shyly and with a quaking voice. "I've seen you before."

"I am Rumil. My father is King Thranduil of Mirkwood," he introduced himself, smiling at the girl's interest and apparent excitement at the name.

"A prince! Nana always said that I would be rescued by a handsome prince one day," the girl said nervously but a hint of excitement was now in her voice although the fear wasn't completely gone Rumil could tell it was slowly fading.

"Why would you need to be rescued? What happened here?"

"People started getting sick a while ago. There was nothing anyone could do. I don't know why but I didn't get sick like the others. Ada and Nana said I should be grateful and not question how I escaped it," Leanna said looking around her nervously.

"Where are your parents? Did they get sick too?" Rumil asked as gently as possible. He knew it was a stupid question as they hadn't seen any other living thing in the town as they walked through it. The girl's grief-filled face confirmed his suspicions.

"They told me to stay away from them; they didn't want me getting sick too. By the time they realised what was happening it was too late for them." She paused, looking nervously around her. "Perhaps you can help them," she said suddenly. "You're a prince! You can help them." She pulled Rumil to his feet and dragged him over to a bedroom next door and then to a four-poster bed in the centre of the room. On it were two still forms, lying entangled in each other's arms.

Rumil and the guards didn't need to check their pulses to know that the girl's parents were dead. Their lifeless, pale faces were enough to tell that that, also the terrible red marks that blemished their skin and the blood that was spattered all over the grimy pillows on which their heads rested together. The Prince held Leanna back whilst the guards checked their pulses. Even though they were sure there was no chance they were still alive Rumil knew he couldn't just leave them whilst their daughter stood beside him.

The guard checking shook his head, silently telling his prince that they were already dead. No one, except perhaps Leanna had expected anything else. Rumil looked to his side but the girl was no longer there. He looked around him and quickly spotted her lying face down on the floor, her breathing heavy and laboured. He ran over to her and picked her up, cradling her in his arms as if she were his own baby. She was hot with fever, her face deathly pale and she was shaking as if she felt freezing cold. At that moment three guards ran into the room with their weapons drawn, wild looks in their eyes.

"Sir, the whole town is completely dead. There's nothing left alive. Even the plants are wilted. Sir, we should leave, it isn't safe here," one of the guards informed him, urgently dragging Rumil from the room, not caring that he was pushing the prince about.

"Yes, let's get out of here, she needs a healer. We'll head back to Mirkwood, someone will be able to help her there."

_Translations_:

Nana – Mum

Ada - Dad

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TBC…


	2. Surprising Arrival

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

**Mirkwood's Plague**

**Thanks to my one lonesome reviewer. Enjoy this one too.**

**Chapter 2 – Surprising Arrival**

King Thranduil wandered idly into Legolas' chambers, already knowing that his son wouldn't be there. It was seven in the morning and undoubtedly his son would already be out on the practice fields, firing arrows at his well-worn target. Thranduil knew all too well that Legolas would never be completely satisfied living a comfortable, safe, life in Mirkwood. No matter what he said to make Thranduil feel better about the situation, the King knew that his son still longed for adventure. He was just as his mother had been: far too adventurous for his own good. The young prince even looked like the long-dead queen.

Sometimes, Thranduil could hardly bare to look at his youngest son, whenever he did he saw the shadow of his dead wife. And yet at the same time he held a great fondness for his youngest; sometimes it was overwhelmingly confusing for Thranduil, not knowing whether it was good or bad that Legolas was so much like his mother.

Thranduil had felt both his sons drifting further away from him lately. He loved his sons so much; many said too much but they were all he had left of his wife. Thranduil knew that sounded selfish but he didn't care. All he wanted was his sons to be near him but more importantly to be happy and Thranduil got the impression that at that moment neither prince was particularly contented. Rumil was getting more and more restless being restricted to the increasingly safe forests of Mirkwood.

Thranduil hated it that he had to ask so much of his heir but he knew that one day Rumil would be King of the realm and he wanted him to be properly prepared. All the pressure that was being put on his son was for his own good, Thranduil knew that and yet it almost killed him inside when Rumil came back from a long days work at his office completely exhausted. That was one of the reasons Thranduil had allowed the prince to go out on this simple scouting mission with the guards. It was a chance for him to escape the confines of the realm even if only for a while.

The King smiled at the thought of his eldest and left in search of Legolas, not that much of a search was required. Legolas rarely strayed from the borders of Mirkwood and even then he never went far and not without a convoy fit for the second in line to the throne. Ever since his return from fighting in the Great War and the destruction of the Ring of Power four years ago Legolas had changed, he had lost some of his adventurous spirit, become quieter, more withdrawn. The bright glint in his shocking blue eyes had faded slightly, as if he had left a part of himself behind somewhere during the great journey with the Ring-bearer. Sometimes Thranduil was regretful that he ever sent his son on that mission, to see him return in such low spirits hurt the King more than he would ever mention to his son.

Thranduil headed towards the practice fields where he knew his son would be practicing archery. That was Legolas' one true love, the only thing he fully committed himself to anymore. He had no love interest and no real friends, apart from the seven other surviving members of the Fellowship and a few select members of Rivendell's residents. Thranduil found his son, as he suspected, firing arrows in the practice field with an excitable group of young Elflings watching him with rapt fascination at the amazing display of strength and accuracy from their prince. They cheered each time Legolas hit the centre, which was every time he fired.

Legolas was concentrating so hard on what he was doing that he hardly noticed the Elflings cheering enthusiastically in the background. In fact, this was something that occurred quite often. Legolas' shooting had become almost legendary amongst the people of Mirkwood, especially since his return from the Quest, and quite often he would draw large audiences by the time he had finished his practice and each time he would turn around and notice them with a completely shocked look on his handsome face.

Thranduil smiled when his son finally turned to face his young audience. His smile grew brighter when he saw his father also watching him. The King walked over to him and stood behind him, making sure he wasn't in between his son and his target.

"Soon you will be so good that you won't need to get up at the crack of dawn and practice for hours out here," Thranduil said, teasing his son as he always did.

Legolas smiled brightly at his father. "That will never happen." He spun suddenly and fired another arrow at the target, hitting dead centre again. Another cheer sounded from the crowd of Elflings.

"It would certainly disappoint a lot of your fans," Thranduil laughed, gesturing behind him. Legolas turned to look at them again and mockingly bowed with a bright smile on his face, something Thranduil never got tired of seeing. This excited another cheer from the onlookers. "Come and have breakfast with me. It's been a long time since we have been alone and had a proper talk," Thranduil said, walking towards the Palace, knowing his ever obedient son was following close behind.

A few minutes later they were sat in the dining hall eating their lavish breakfast being provided by the helpful servants that were waiting on their king and prince.

Thranduil turned to his son. "So tell me Legolas, how are you?"

"I'm fine," Legolas answered vaguely, not really paying too much attention to his answer, it had become almost a reflex over the years.

"Good," Thranduil said, knowing his son wasn't telling the truth but deciding to leave it for now, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. He knew how much his proud son hated being fussed over, just like all the Thranduillion family.

"Is Rumil back yet?" Legolas asked, breaking the slightly awkward silence between father and son. "I thought he was meant to return last night," Legolas looked up seriously at his father.

"You know your brother. He has probably found some wild adventure in which to partake; no doubt something dangerous that will cause me endless problems and require an awful lot of explaining at the end. He seems to have a knack for getting into trouble. I will send out riders if he does not return soon. Don't worry too much, Legolas, I'm sure Rumil's fine." Thranduil really wasn't too worried about the whereabouts of his eldest, he had sent a convoy of guards with him under strict instructions to return the Crown Prince safely to Mirkwood and he didn't doubt their ability to protect his son; they were the best people in Mirkwood for the job. Rumil just had a way of getting into trouble. Thranduil laughed to himself when he thought of how his son was probably trying his best to delay the troop from returning to Mirkwood too quickly. He was probably enjoying his first taste of freedom for years. Besides, despite his wild nature, Rumil was fairly sensible.

"Perhaps I could go?" Legolas suggested after a while. He already knew what the answer would be though.

"I'm sure Rumil's fine," Thranduil said sharply, leaving no room for argument. Legolas nodded, knowing there was no point in saying anything else, nothing would sway the King's decision. His words always implied an awful lot more than most realised. They continued to eat in an uneasy silence.

Their quiet breakfast was suddenly interrupted by a servant slamming the door open and running over to where the king was sitting. Thranduil stood up and waited for the servant to formally greet him and catch his breath. Finally losing his patience Thranduil spoke.

"What is it that is so urgent that you had to interrupt our meal?"

"My Lord, Prince Rumil has returned." Legolas shot out of his chair when he heard this. Rumil had always been one for big entrances but he knew something was wrong this time, he could feel it. "He is…sick, my Lord. Only one of the guards in the troop has returned and he is in the same condition as the prince," the servant shuddered nervously in front of the king.

Thranduil just stared blankly at the servant for a moment before shouting, "Where is he? Did you take him to the healers?"

"No, my Lord," the servant answered nervously.

"Why not?" Thranduil shouted, making the already nervous Elf jump.

Legolas saw this and decided to put a stop to it before the poor servant died of fright from coming face to face with the infamous angry look Thranduil used to intimidate his enemies. Legolas himself had been on the receiving end of that look and it was enough to send even the strongest Elf running in the opposite direction.

"Ada," Legolas warned, knowing his father was fast losing his temper. "Why not? Is something else wrong?" Legolas asked, a lot more patiently than his angry father. Thranduil sighed, wishing he possessed his son's patience but still wishing the servant would hurry up and tell him what was wrong with Rumil.

The servant looked nervously towards the king and then back to the less intimidating Legolas. "He carries a young child. A dead child. He refuses to leave her and go to the healers. We did try, my Lord, but he refused and ordered me to fetch the King. I don't think he really knew what he was saying, my Lord."

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked.

"He asked for the King but I don't think he really knew that the King was also his father. He sounded so detached, my Lord."

Thranduil looked at the servant with that glare once more before speaking. "Well, take me to him," he said, trying desperately to keep his voice steady.

The servant nodded and hurried out the door, closely followed by a frightened Thranduil and Legolas.

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When they entered the room where Rumil was waiting for them they stopped, completely shocked at what they were seeing. Rumil was kneeling by the fireplace slowly rocking backwards and forwards and mumbling to the large bundle in his arms. Rumil himself was shaking violently and was unusually pale although dark red blotches covered his face. He was thinner than Thranduil ever remembered him being and he looked as if he had been weeks without sufficient sleep. His voice was broken and his eyes were filled with pain and glazed with fever, which was also evident on his face. Legolas also took all this in, not quite believing what he was seeing. He looked over to his father to find that he had gone almost as pale as Rumil.

Thranduil finally pulled himself together and walked slowly towards his eldest son. He kept his eyes fixed on Rumil as though he might disappear if he looked away for even a second. He was still trying to make his mind believe what his eyes were seeing.

"Rumil," he said loudly enough to attract the attention of his oldest son who seemed not to notice anyone else in the room. Thranduil tried desperately to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Rumil, we need to get you and your…charge to the healing halls. Rumil, you're ill. We can help your friend. Why don't you hand her to Legolas, he will take care of her," Thranduil coaxed.

"No," Rumil shouted, gripping the child a little tighter to his chest and shrinking away from the King. It was as if he was irrationally protecting the child from the King and Legolas.

"Rumil, I promise we will take good care of her. We can treat her in the healing halls. She will be safe with your brother," Thranduil said, taking a cautious step closer to his trembling son.

"I have to protect her. I told her I would help her," Rumil said softly, kissing the Elfling's hair and continuing to rock her in his arms, presumably trying to comfort her even though she made absolutely no movement.

"You can. We will treat her and look after her and as soon as you're better you can sit with her and look after her yourself. I think she would really appreciate that," Thranduil said calmly. "Come, allow Legolas to take her now."

"You promise she'll be alright?"

"I promise," Thranduil smiled, looking into his son's glazed blue eyes.

Rumil looked cautiously at his father before reluctantly nodding. He still didn't release the child though. He clung to her like she was something precious to him. Thranduil had never seen his son act like this before and if he was truthful it utterly terrified him.

"Let Legolas take the…"

"Leanna," Rumil interrupted his father. His voice was weak and strained and it looked as though it took a lot of effort to just say that one word.

"…Leanna. I promise she'll be safe," Thranduil smiled.

Once again Rumil nodded but this time he loosened his grip on Leanna slightly. Thranduil turned to Legolas and nodded for him to take the child from his brother. Legolas cautiously stepped forward and knelt before his elder brother. He smiled gently as he lifted the weightless child from Rumil's arms. Rumil winced and looked pleadingly at Legolas who was checking Leanna. When Legolas did look up he got that same awful pleading look again. He turned to his father who gave him a subtle nod of his head. Legolas knew what he had to do.

He smiled at Rumil who still had his eyes fixed on Leanna.

"She's going to be just fine. You got her here just in time," Legolas said, trying to sound sincere. He knew, of course that it was a lie. As soon as they had walked into the room they knew the girl was dead.

"Legolas, take her to the healing rooms where she can be treated." Legolas nodded and began to walk away but Rumil's cracked voice stopped him before he could leave.

"Wait…I want to go with her."

"You can see her again when she wakes up," Thranduil said, looking to Rumil then at Legolas to back him up.

"Yes, you don't want her to see you like this do you? Because no offence brother, but you look terrible," Legolas smiled, he hated doing this.

"No. You're right. Goodbye, Leanna," he called sadly. He looked over at his father and smiled weakly. "Ada…" He fell forward onto his face, crying out and suddenly shaking even more violently than before.

"Rumil," Thranduil shouted as he watched his son fall. He dashed forward to help his eldest. "Go fetch the healers. Now!" Thranduil yelled at one of the servants who was still lingering near the scene.

Legolas couldn't believe what was happening. He had never seen his brother – nor any other Elf for that matter – like that before. Illness was not something that was often seen amongst Elves so this whole thing was a completely new experience for him. He had seen people die violently in battle, even seen people dying from grief but never anything like this. Unfortunately, no one else had seen anything like it before either so they were all just as mystified as each other. This wasn't much help to the young prince at the moment. Right then Legolas could see the terrible fear in Thranduil's normally stone-like eyes.

Suddenly, and much to everyone's surprise, three healers burst into the room, startling everyone. They quickly bowed to their king before running over to Rumil and beginning to work on him. They soon had him on a stretcher and were carrying him towards the healing rooms. Thranduil was right behind them, shouting encouraging nonsense to his son, who was groaning softly in pain as the healers moved him. Thranduil stopped when he came to Legolas who was still holding the lifeless child in his arms.

"She is dead?" he asked flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes, and has been for some time. I don't think Rumil knows," Legolas said sadly.

"And he shouldn't, not yet, not until he's well again," Thranduil said firmly.

"He will…Rumil will be alright, won't he Ada?" Again that flicker of fear crossed the king's face.

"Of course he will," Thranduil said but Legolas could tell he really wasn't sure. He had seen that look in the king's eyes before. "You," Thranduil commanded a healer who was just standing there looking a little lost for what to do. "Take the child and make sure the Crown Prince doesn't know she is dead."

The healer nodded and carefully took Leanna from Legolas and silently left the room, forgetting to bow to the king in his haste; not that Thranduil cared or even noticed, all that mattered to him right then was his son.

"What was that? I have never seen anything like it before," Legolas said after a moment's stunned silence as they both let what had happened sink in.

"Nor have I, ion nin. As soon as Rumil wakes we will ask him what happened. He must know something. Until then there is not much we can do."

"Let me take a troop of Elves and search for whatever did this. It should only take a few hours," Legolas said to his father.

"No! You and everyone else are to stay within Mirkwood until we know what this is."

"We won't know what this is until we go and find out," Legolas argued.

"I am sorry, my son, the answer is no."

"But don't you want to know what did this?"

"Not if there is any risk to my family, no."

"Ada…"

"I said no!" Thranduil shouted, leaving a slightly stunned Legolas in silence and a handful of servants looking around nervously, diverting their gaze. "Legolas promise me you will not leave Mirkwood," Thranduil said in a low voice.

"I promise," Legolas sighed quietly.

"Good. Now I should go and see how Rumil is." Legolas nodded and looked down at the ground, trying to avoid his father's piercing blue gaze. "Go and rest, ion nin. This has been a confusing morning and I know for a fact that you didn't sleep well last night," Thranduil smiled reassuringly at his son, placing a hand on his shoulder. Legolas nodded slowly, not wanting to do as his father said but knowing, as usual, that there was little point in arguing. When the King made a decision it had to be followed or serious trouble would inevitably follow.

Thranduil left Legolas alone but the Prince could hear his father's voice from down the corridor shouting at one of the healers. He also heard his father barking orders at the guards to make sure all Mirkwood's people stayed inside the borders. Legolas sighed, he knew this was a mistake but he also knew that he couldn't go against his father's – against the _King's_ – wishes. He decided instead of doing as his father suggested that he would go back out to the practice fields. There was no point in trying to get in to see his brother, he knew his father would have guards posted outside Rumil's room just in case someone wanted to take advantage of the Crown Prince's weakened state and no doubt they would have orders to keep Legolas out of the way.

Legolas headed back to the practice fields to shoot arrows and hopefully get rid of his frustration about not being able to be with his brother.

_Translations: _

_**Ion nin – my son**_

_**Ada – dad.**_

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	3. Comings and Goings

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

**

**Mirkwood's Plague**

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I really appreciate it. Here's chapter three for you. **

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**Chapter 3 – Comings and Goings**

It was over two hours before Legolas returned from the training fields, feeling a little better now that he had vented a bit of his frustration but still full of concern for his older brother. He rounded the corner and approached Rumil's bedroom. The Crown Prince had been moved somewhere more comfortable than the healing rooms he had always hated so much. Ever since his mother had died giving birth to Legolas, Rumil had stayed as far away from those rooms as possible. This usually resulted in him keeping any medical problems, which often occurred during his adventures, to himself. Legolas smiled when he thought of the proud warrior Rumil being afraid of a simple room.

When Legolas saw Thranduil standing in the hallway his smile faded. The usually proud king was stood leaning against the wall. He had his face buried in his hands and looked more tired than Legolas ever remembered seeing him. He approached slowly, concern written all over his face. Thranduil apparently didn't hear his son approaching, or didn't care. The King didn't even look up.

"Ada?" Legolas asked quietly. Thranduil looked up and Legolas was surprised to see fresh tears on his father's pale face. He had never seen his father lose control of his emotions and it terrified him.

"Rumil?" he questioned, fearing he already knew the answer.

Thranduil looked towards Rumil's room with sad, tear-filled eyes. Legolas knew then that his brother was dead. He didn't need Thranduil to voice the truth. He took a step towards the door; he had to see his brother. However, a strong, firm hand on his arm held him back.

"Legolas, please, don't," Thranduil's voice was pleading rather than demanding.

Legolas ignored him, brushing off his father's hand and pushed the door open. He stepped inside cautiously. He had been in that room numerous times but never before had it felt so dark and oppressive. The shutters were firmly closed, blocking out any sunlight. The darkness was broken only by a few candles placed by Rumil's bedside. Rumil himself was laid out on the bed, obviously done by either the healers that had tended to him or by Thranduil himself. From where Legolas stood it looked like his brother was just sleeping and if he hadn't known better he would have said that Rumil could be woken simply by shaking him. Legolas wished so much that this was true.

Legolas walked slowly up to the bed, with a sense of foreboding that he hadn't noticed before, which was almost stifling in the dim, enclosed room. He didn't want to see Rumil in that condition and yet something inside him told him that he had to see his brother for what may be the last ever time; if nothing else than to check that what his father said was true, although he knew deep down that it was pointless to think otherwise.

When Legolas looked down he noticed that Rumil had been cleaned up since his arrival at the palace, presumably by the healers. However, what the healers couldn't clean off the pale and drawn face were the lines of pain that were etched into his brother's handsome features. When Legolas looked closer he saw deep purple bruises that he hadn't seen before; they almost covered his face and what little of his body was showing beneath the blankets. Legolas looked closer and noticed the blood in his brother's mouth and the small specks of blood that remained on the white pillows and sheets. As far as he remembered Rumil hadn't shown any signs of bleeding when he had arrived in the palace a few hours ago. Legolas pulled back the sheets to expose his brother's body fully and what he saw shocked and horrified him. Rumil's body was covered in the same deep bruises that were on his face only they were surrounded by thin purple lines that seemed to stretch away from the marks, just like Legolas would have expected to see from a poisoned wound. And yet there were no other signs of poison or an open wound of any kind and poison couldn't have killed an entire town and all the guards that were with the prince. Legolas sighed and pulled the sheet back over Rumil's body as he didn't want people seeing his brother in such an exposed state.

Legolas knelt down next to his brother's bed and bowed his head in silent prayer. He looked up when he sensed someone behind him. He looked around to find Thranduil also bowing his head, joining his son in his prayers to the Valar.

Legolas looked up at his father after a while and their eyes met.

"I shouldn't have let him go. I knew something was wrong with that town. I knew it wasn't safe but I still let him go. I shouldn't have let him go."

"Ada, this wasn't your fault. Rumil begged you to let him join the scouts. I heard him myself. If you hadn't of said yes he would probably have found a way to get out anyway," Legolas said quietly, not wanting to disturb the respectful atmosphere that had descended over the room.

"Hannon le, ion nin," Thranduil smiled at Legolas although it was a smile marred with the painful sorrow of losing his son and heir.

"What happened to the guard that came home with Rumil? Did he survive?" Legolas asked.

"He died only an hour after he arrived. The same way as…The same way. Legolas, something is very wrong here. The girl with Rumil – Leanna – she was already dead when she arrived and yet Rumil didn't seem to notice he carried a corpse in his arms. I know he's not a trained healer but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. She died in exactly the same way as Rumil. Why would he bring her here if he knew there was danger to himself and his people? Of course he would want to help the girl but at the risk of Mirkwood? Rumil wasn't an idiot; he would put his people before anything else. He wouldn't do anything to harm Mirkwood."

"Unless he didn't know what _it_ was."

"Indeed."

"What do the healers say? Do they know what did this?" Legolas asked softly, hoping his father would explain everything as usually happened whenever anything went wrong in Mirkwood.

"No, some of the best healers in Middle Earth and not one of them recognises this illness. I have them working on an answer but so far they've come up with nothing."

"Ada, we need to know what's happening. If someone or something is attacking Mirkwood we must stop it. Mirkwood needs to be protected," Legolas insisted.

"I know that but I will not risk any more people getting hurt."

"Rumil would want…"

"Rumil would want his people to remain safe. I will not be challenged on this, Legolas. I have made my decision and you will abide by it," Thranduil demanded.

After that an uneasy silence filled the room. Legolas stood watching his father who simply stared numbly at Rumil as if willing his dead son to move. Legolas hated seeing his father like that but there was nothing he could say or do. He knew how stubborn the King could be once his mind was made up.

"I'm sorry," Thranduil whispered after a while. "I'm so sorry." The king once more covered his face with his hands to hide his tears.

"Ada." Legolas moved tentatively forwards and hugged his crying father. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm sure you know best. I will follow your orders."

Thranduil leaned further against his son, hiding his face in Legolas' shoulder. Legolas was utterly astounded; he couldn't believe this was happening. Throughout his long life he had seen his father angry, happy and disappointed but never this upset.

A gentle knocking at the door brought Legolas from his thoughts.

"Not now," he shouted impatiently. He felt his father pull away and he obediently released his grip on him.

"No, it's alright. What is it?" the King asked wearily but he still held an air of authority about him that Legolas and most of Mirkwood were used to.

"Forgive me for interrupting Your Majesties but Lord Aragorn, Gimli; Gandalf and the Hobbits have just arrived in Mirkwood. I informed them that this was a bad time but King Elessar insisted that he speak with Prince Legolas at once. They are waiting for the Prince in the hall," the servant said quickly. He was obviously unnerved by the state of his King.

"Go back to them and give them my sincere apologies but I cannot join them right now," Legolas ordered.

"Ion nin, they are your friends you should go and greet them. It would seem impolite if you didn't. You could use a break from this anyway. Go and be with your friends," Thranduil said, placing a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder.

"Your Highness, Lord Elrond is also here. He wishes to speak with you," the servant continued.

Thranduil sighed heavily, rubbing at his tired, teary eyes; he should have known Elrond would be with the group. He had a knack for showing up at inconvenient yet very appropriate times.

"Very well. Send the Fellowship to my study so my son may speak with them in private and show Lord Elrond to the library. Inform him that I shall be with him shortly. And do not mention anything about Rumil just yet." Thranduil glanced back at the body of his eldest.

"Yes, sir," the servant acknowledged. He bowed briefly before going to follow his Lord's orders.

"Go on, Legolas. Be with your friends. There is nothing you can do here. I will let you know if there are any developments, I promise." Thranduil smiled reassuringly at his son although Legolas knew it was false. Even so he nodded and, after one more glance at his brother, he left the room silently.

TBC…

**Translations:**

**Ada – **Dad

**Hannon le, ion nin – **Thank you, my son

**


	4. A Helping Hand

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created**.**

******

**Mirkwood's Plague**

******

**A/N: Hmmm, will Legolas get sick? I wonder. Keep reading to find out and tap out a review when you're done, I do love getting them. Thanks.**

**Chapter 4 ~ A Helping Hand**

The remaining members of the Fellowship of the Ring; namely Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam, Aragorn, Gimli and Gandalf, had travelled to Mirkwood under the invitation of Legolas. Although there had been a fairly recent reunion at Rivendell, Legolas was eager for his friends to see Mirkwood for themselves. The Hobbits had never been anywhere near Mirkwood before so this was a completely new and exciting experience for them, although Frodo had heard enough of Bilbo's stories about the place to have an idea of what it was like and if he was honest he was also quite nervous about being there. After all, the Elf-King, according to Bilbo, was far from welcoming and delighted in locking Dwarves in dungeons. When Frodo had told Legolas of his concerns the Elf had almost fallen over laughing, saying that that was a great exaggeration and his father was a fair and noble ruler of his kingdom.

Gandalf and Aragorn had visited Mirkwood countless times. Being good friends with both Legolas and King Thranduil had allowed Gandalf to visit often, much to the Hobbit's relief, who assumed that nothing could go wrong so long as Gandalf was with them. Aragorn, however, had not had as many good experiences in Mirkwood. The king often said that Legolas had made a big mistake in befriending a human and Aragorn had been on the receiving end of many lectures from the king about keeping his son safe and about how untrustworthy the whole race of Men were.

Gimli was the most excited of all of them. He had been expecting to see the same shining beauty of Lothlorien or Imladris but he was vaguely disappointed to find that most of Mirkwood consisted of dark, oppressive trees – although he should have guessed as some people still referred to it as the Great Forest. Legolas had always insisted that the palace was 'the grandest building this side of the Misty Mountains' and despite it being all boring trees on the outside the palace itself was spectacular in the Dwarf's eyes and far surpassed the abodes in Lorien or Rivendell.

Gimli marvelled at the golden halls with their fine carvings in stone and expensive-looking furniture complete with some of the finest jewels in Middle Earth. It was hard to believe that Legolas, the humble, excellent archer and fighter from the Fellowship, was in fact the prince of this spectacular place.

After a few minutes of waiting in the corridor – just as brilliant as all the others they had been through so far – two servants appeared. One spoke softly to Elrond who then silently disappeared around the corner with only a nod of his head towards the rest of the group. The other servant bowed to the remaining travellers before speaking.

"My Lords, Prince Legolas has asked me to escort you all to King Thranduil's study. His Majesty apologises that your rooms have not yet been prepared but will make sure they are ready for you straight after dinner," the servant spoke formally and quickly bowed at the end of his overly elaborate speech. Even Gandalf and Aragorn were slightly surprised by the formality of it. Often their visits were light-hearted and the greetings long and joyful but not this time. The servant looked uncomfortable to be there and looked as though he simply wanted to run away and hide.

"If you would please follow me." The servant began walking through the maze of halls, which Gandalf remembered quite well from previous visits. From the increase of beauty in the décor Gimli guessed they were getting closer to the royal quarters and it was quite a spectacular thing to behold.

Finally the servant stopped outside a set of tall double doors. He unlocked the doors and pushed them open revealing the most lavish room Gimli had ever seen.

"Prince Legolas will be joining you shortly. Please make yourselves comfortable while you wait." The servant bowed and turned to leave.

"Hang on. Do you know how long it is until that meal you were talking about?" Pippin asked before the servant could leave.

"No sir but I can find out if you wish."

"No, that's fine. I'll just ask Lego…_Prince_ Legolas," Pippin said, smiling.

"As you wish." With that the servant left them alone in the room.

"So, this is Mirkwood," Gimli mumbled looking critically around. "Not what I expected. Where is Legolas anyway? He should be greeting his guests properly. Knowing that idiot Elf prince he's off somewhere shooting arrows or something stupid like that."

"Something is wrong here," Gandalf mused. "It's not like Legolas or Thranduil not to greet their guests. And it's far too quiet around here. No music, no laughter and no guards watching over us and servants showing us to the _king's study_ of all places. It's been a long time since I have been in here on my own. This place is usually guarded so well no one could get in."

"You're right. I've never been to this part of the palace without being escorted by Thranduil, Rumil or Legolas himself. The royals are fully aware of the danger to their lives. It's not like them to be lax when it comes to security," Aragorn agreed.

"Well, I think he's forgotten about us. He's probably too busy to greet his own friends when they travel all this way to see him," Gimli grumbled, admiring the stone fireplace.

"As if I could ever forget you, my old friend," the soft, melodic voice of Legolas Greenleaf came from the doorway. "Forgive me, my friends, but I have had…business to attend to," Legolas told them grimly, forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, which he knew looked far from convincing.

The Hobbits had already launched themselves at Legolas and were displaying their usual cheerful greeting of trying to strangle him with their enthusiastic hugs.

"I hope it was important business," Gimli grumbled as he roughly shook Legolas' hand.

Legolas looked to the floor, a shadow crossing his face before he looked up to meet the Dwarf's eyes. "Yes, it was." He sounded detached as he said this and Gimli almost regretted speaking at all.

"It's so good to see you, mellon nin," Aragorn grinned as he embraced his friend tightly. He felt Legolas holding him back a little tighter than usual. Hoping to offer his friend some comfort for whatever it was that was troubling the Elf he increased his own grip.

"Mae govannen, mellon nin," Legolas said softly still gripping his friend tightly and fighting the urge to fall apart in Aragorn's arms.

"Legolas, mani ta raika?"

"Speak words we can all understand," Gimli predictably grumbled from behind Aragorn.

Legolas finally pulled away from Aragorn composing himself as he wandered over to his father's desk. He looked idly down at the papers scattered across it, not really looking at anything in particular but simply trying to distract himself from everything, including his friends. He knew they suspected something was wrong and it was only a matter of time before one of them asked the dreaded question and he would be forced to say the dreaded words.

"Legolas, mani matre? I'm sorry, Gimli; what happened? I have never seen Mirkwood so sombre, so mournful," Gandalf stated, watching Legolas carefully for any reaction. Legolas looked up at the old wizard for a moment before turning away and sitting heavily in his father's chair.

"Forgive me, Gandalf. Something terrible has happened and my father believes we should do nothing but I cannot…"

"Wait. What terrible thing has happened?" Aragorn interrupted Legolas.

"Rumil went out on a scouting mission three days ago. Today he returned with only one of the seven guards sent to protect him."

"Someone tried to kill…Rumil?" Sam asked, not really knowing who Rumil was or what Legolas was talking about but sensing that this was something very bad.

"Rumil was my brother and we…_I _don't think he was attacked. He carried with him a young child, no older than ten years. She was dead when she arrived and the guard died soon after he returned home. Ada believes we should do nothing but…"

"Wait, what do you mean _was_?" Aragorn once again interrupted.

"Mani?"

"You said he _was_ your brother," Pippin pointed out, looking at Legolas in confusion.

"Rumil…He tried to save the child. He did everything he could to protect her. The healers worked for hours to try to save him but…I wasn't there, Estel. Ada never called me. I wasn't there when…when my brother died." Legolas leaned back in his chair and watched his friends for their reactions. The Hobbits just looked shocked; Frodo most of all. Strangely Gimli looked guilty – probably because of his earlier sharp comments about his absence. Aragorn and Gandalf both had looks of blatant sympathy on their faces. Aragorn, who had also known Rumil well, sank down into a chair and was watching the floor with an unusual amount of interest.

Pippin was the first to break the uneasy silence. "We're all very sorry about your brother, Legolas. It seems we came at a bad time."

Legolas smiled sadly – so like a Hobbit. "It's alright, Pippin. You couldn't have known," he reassured.

"What about Elrond? Does he know about this?" Aragorn asked, shifting his gaze from the floor to his Elven friend.

"Ada is talking to him now. I am hoping he will ask Lord Elrond to help find out what caused this. The healers here have not figured it out yet but they continue to search for an answer. Father believes it was some kind of attack but I have never encountered anything like it, poison or otherwise, that could kill like that."

"Or have those kinds of symptoms," an authoritative voice from the door. Everyone turned around to see Thranduil standing in the doorway with Elrond standing behind him. All of them except Legolas jumped from their seats and bowed low to the king. Gandalf walked over to Thranduil and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I am truly sorry, my friend," Gandalf said sincerely.

"Hannon le, mellon nin," Thranduil smiled, flashing the wizard a quick, grateful smile.

"Ada. I thought you wished to speak with Lord Elrond," Legolas finally spoke, standing slowly from his father's chair and facing the king.

"We have said all we need to," Thranduil replied bluntly, sparing a glance towards Elrond. "I have spoken to Lord Elrond and he has agreed to aid us in this matter," Thranduil smiled softly.

"That is good news," Legolas said, smiling at the Imladrian Lord.

"If there is anything we can do, you know we are all here to help," Gandalf offered. "But for now I think it is your duty to inform your kingdom about their Crown Prince."

"I think you should also put more guards on your borders. Mirkwood must have some protection. It is very important if there is an unknown threat outside or within," Aragorn suggested looking over at Legolas who discreetly nodded his thanks.

"I value your opinion, King Elessar but I will not risk any more people being killed like my son. This unknown thing has already taken nine lives that we know of and who knows how many more are dead in that town. I will not be responsible for the deaths of more of my people," Thranduil said firmly, looking somewhat coldly at Aragorn and at Legolas as he did so. "I must say goodbye to my son now. If you will excuse me." With that Thranduil left, leaving some very stunned and slightly irritated faces.

"Well, that was interesting," Pippin said, breaking the silence.

"Ada has always been stubborn. He will not change his mind about this no matter how much I try to convince him," Legolas sighed, sitting down again.

"Thranduil is only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Elrond replied looking over at Aragorn and the Hobbits. "Come now, the young Hobbits here must be getting hungry after their long journey. Why don't we go to lunch and allow your father to calm down a little before speaking to him again about this matter?"

The Hobbits were beyond thrilled at the mention of lunch. Not even the death of Rumil or concern for their friend could dull their enthusiasm for food. They did decide to make sure they cheered Legolas up during their stay though. They had never thought of Legolas as a Prince and had rarely seen him as troubled as he was now. During the Quest he had always been quiet, never letting anyone in but now they were beginning to see a different side to their companion.

"I think that is an excellent idea," Gandalf echoed. "Legolas, will you join us? I'm sure you could use something to eat after this terrible shock."

"No thank you Gandalf. I have things to take care of here, a Kingdom to inform of Rumil's death. I will make sure you have everything you want though. All of Mirkwood's services are at your disposal," he said, standing tiredly.

"Oh, all we want is your company, mellon nin. A few minutes won't hurt I'm sure. You have had a trying day. Come and relax with us for a while," Gandalf insisted.

"Very well. Only for a few minutes though." Legolas walked to the door and flung it open, allowing his friends to go through.

"Good, it will give us a chance to talk," Gandalf said quietly so no one else could hear. Legolas nodded and let Gandalf leave before he shut the door and locked it behind him.

Both Gandalf and Legolas hung back from the others and spoke in voices so quiet that not even the Hobbits could hear what was being said.

"There is something you're not telling me," Gandalf stated bluntly.

"Yes. Rumil wasn't attacked using any kind of weapon. There were no signs of arrow or knife marks on him and yet all the healers are convinced that his illness has something to do with the bloodstream. There were bruises all over his body and when I saw him earlier there was blood on the pillow yet he had no open wounds. Gandalf, the healers have never seen anything like it; they have so far found no traces of any known poison in his blood and cannot even explain his symptoms."

"Which were?"

"When he arrived he could barely stand up. He was pale, weak and tired. Never have I seen anyone in such condition. His fever was also unusually high and the healers informed me that it was the same right up until he died. It cannot be poison as it has affected so many people already. I don't know what happened in that town but something is going on there. I can think of no other answer. Rumil was perfectly fine before he left. Leanna was in the same state before she died."

"Leanna?" Gandalf questioned.

"The child Rumil rescued from the town."

"Do you think she has something to do with this?"

"I don't know but something must have happened in that town. Rumil wouldn't just bring people back here for no reason. He must have seen something to make him do it."

"And you say he was fine before he left the palace?" Elrond – who had been listening in silence – asked.

"Yes, he was arguing with Ada," Legolas smiled faintly.

"Both he and all the guards were fine when they left the palace grounds so something must have happened after they left. Perhaps it was some kind of attack. The royal family, especially the Crown Prince, must have enemies."

"Of course Rumil and Ada have countless threats on their lives but none have ever gone this far. Besides, that doesn't explain Leanna," Legolas thought out loud.

"Whatever happened we have to discover the cause quickly. If something did attack them then more people might be in danger and we need to know how to stop it. We have no idea how dangerous it is," Gandalf said.

"We can't fight it or stop it if we don't know what _it_ is," Elrond reasoned.

"What about this town? You said Rumil went there so something must have happened before hand. Why did he go in the first place?" Gandalf asked.

"We hard heard nothing from the town for months. Usually we're on good terms with them but we had no contact for a while. Ada was concerned so he sent the scouting party to search the town for any clues as to what was going on. Rumil insisted on joining them. He said it was his duty and his privilege as Crown Prince. Ada eventually agreed to let him go but warned him against doing anything dangerous. Rumil was sometimes defiant but he would never disobey direct orders and certainly not at the risk of other people. He would have followed Ada's orders, I know it."

"Of course he would. Anyway, you said he wasn't injured so the big question is: what killed him?" Elrond smiled when he realised he was talking out loud. "Forgive me, Legolas for being so blunt but we need to figure this out as soon as possible. If your brother was sick we need to know what caused it before anyone else gets hurt."

"I understand, my Lord," Legolas smiled softly. He didn't like the thought of it being said out loud yet but he knew it would have to happen eventually. "But please do not speak of this openly again, at least not until my people have been properly informed. I do not want the rumours spreading before the official announcement."

"Of course that is your decision," Elrond said.

Legolas sighed; he knew what was coming. "But?" he prompted.

"But if you announce to Mirkwood that Rumil was killed by some mystery illness, it will only serve to cause panic. The last thing you want is for people to become paranoid. If I were you I would wait until all this has been confirmed before revealing the nature of his death."

"And until then what am I supposed to tell the families of the dead?" Legolas said with a raised voice.

The others, walking in front of them, stopped and turned to face him slightly shocked. Gandalf strode over to them and muttered something before leading them in the direction of the dining hall. He turned and gave a quick nod to Elrond before turning the corner.

"I am sorry, Elrond. I know you are only trying to help," Legolas sighed, placing a hand over his eyes, trying to get rid of the headache that was rapidly forming.

"I know that this is a confusing time for you but you and your father must do what is best for Mirkwood. I can only help you discover the cause of this illness. I have no idea how to run Mirkwood effectively."

"Perhaps these decisions are best left to my father. Rumil was always the one who enjoyed politics." He smiled at the memory.

"I will start right away and try to figure out what happened here. The sooner all this is cleared up the better. Now, you should go and eat then get some rest; a lot has happened today and you must be exhausted. I will make sure the healers do their jobs. I will also speak with Thranduil after he has had some time to say goodbye to Rumil."

"Thank you for all your help," Legolas said, looking into Elrond's knowing eyes.

"I am only doing what is necessary. Later why don't you come and see Rumil? It will do you good to say goodbye properly."

"I will thank you." Legolas bowed his head and walked in the direction of the dining halls."

**

_**Translations:**_

**Mae govannen – **Well met

**Mellon nin **– my friend

**Hannon le **– Thank you

**Mani ta raika?** – What is wrong?

**Mani?** – What?

**Ada **- Dad


	5. Father vs Son

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

**

**A/N: Thank you so much to you guys for reviewing this and I hope even those who haven't left a review also enjoyed it.**

**Mirkwood's Plague**

**Chapter 5 – Father Vs Son**

Legolas, Aragorn, Merry, Pippin Frodo, Sam, Gimli and Gandalf sat around the grand table in the royal dining hall. The Hobbits were amazed at the wide selection of foods. Frodo and Sam had been expecting the traditional fruit and large quantities of Lembas Bread usually associated with the Elves so they were thrilled to see that there was none of the rather dry Elven whey-bread in sight. The table was filled with the most magnificent foods. Only in the house of Elrond and their own home in the Shire had they ever seen anything so grand. Although they were enjoying the wonderful spread as much as the other two Frodo and Pippin never took their eyes off Legolas who was just sat staring down at his untouched food, obviously deep in thought about his fallen brother.

All of them desperately wanted to break the uneasy silence but Aragorn shot them a warning look every now and then to make sure they didn't say anything, especially Pippin. He didn't want them to say anything that would upset Legolas. He knew the young Hobbit had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and right then that wasn't something Aragorn wanted happening, everything was too volatile.

"Legolas, Mirkwood is looking especially lovely at the moment," Aragorn desperately tried to break the excruciating silence.

"Ada makes sure it's kept nice; public relations. Rumil worked for months making sure the gardens were up to scratch after the war here. I think he did a good job," Legolas smiled faintly.

"Perhaps you could give the Hobbits a tour of them. I'm sure Rumil would have liked your friends to see his work," Aragorn suggested kindly.

"Do not tell me what my brother would have wanted!" Legolas shouted, his voice echoing through the large hall and stopping the Hobbits piling food into their mouths. Aragorn looked over to the others but his eyes kept drifting back to Legolas. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," Legolas sighed, rubbing his hands down his face.

The room was silent as he raked his fingers through his long, golden hair. The Hobbits were looking at their half-full plates, having suddenly lost their appetites – quite something for a Hobbit. Gimli took a long swig of his drink and openly stared at his Elven friend. Aragorn, however, was watching his friend intently, sympathy written all over his rugged face.

The uncomfortable silence was interrupted by a servant slamming the doors open and rushing over to Legolas. The prince stood to meet the servant and waited as he tried in vane to pass on his message and control his heavy breathing.

"My Lord, your father," the servant said through heavy breaths. "Your father…"

"Slow down. What about my father?" Legolas asked calmly.

"The King…"

"Just tell us and stop stalling," Gimli grumbled from the other side of the table.

"Your father attacked the servants, my Lord. He threw them out of Prince Rumil's rooms and demanded that no one disturb him," the servant told them after catching his breath.

"He attacked the servants?" Legolas asked, trying to understand what he was hearing and throwing a worried look at Aragorn at the same time.

"Yes, my Lord, and…"

"And what?" Legolas prompted rather impatiently when the servant hesitated.

"He looked…different, my Lord. Like he was sick," the servant informed him reluctantly. "Forgive me, sir. I could be wrong."

"No. Thank you for telling me. Is he still in Rumil's chambers?"

"Yes, my Lord," the servant said, bowing as Legolas strode past him with all the confidence of a prince.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Aragorn asked, standing from his seat, ready to go if Legolas desired it. He hated to think that Legolas would have to face his apparently irate father on his own and was prepared to do whatever his friend wanted.

"No, it's probably not a good idea. You know what he's like. It would probably only make things worse," Legolas said as he turned to face the man.

"Then let me send for Lord Elrond. If he's sick he'll need help," Aragorn said, feeling a little bit rejected at Legolas' last statement.

"No," Legolas shouted. "I told you I don't want to make him worse."

"But if the King is ill…" Aragorn began.

"He has just lost his son. How would you feel?" Legolas snapped. He turned abruptly and left, leaving the Hobbits and the remaining members just staring at the doors as they slammed closed.

"You should go after him," Pippin said quietly, looking up at a startled Aragorn.

"I should just leave him to see to the King. Thranduil and Legolas are one of a kind; they're as stubborn as each other."

"I don't think I've ever seen him like that," Gimli commented.

"Like he said, a lot has happened lately. I think he just needs time to sort through this," Gandalf said, finally joining in the conversation with his ancient wisdom. "I believe our friend is going to need it eventually, whether he wants to admit it or not."

"He loved Rumil more than he lets on sometimes. I know how close they were," Aragorn sighed almost to himself, although the rest of them were listening intently.

"I should go and find out what is happening. I don't think even Legolas can stand up to Thranduil when he's like this. If he is attacking servants he must be pretty angry," Gandalf said, walking towards the door.

"The King would never hurt his own son though, right?" Frodo shifted his gaze nervously from Aragorn to Gandalf.

"Thranduil has a…short temper, it does not take much to anger him," Aragorn mused slowly. There was no doubt that Thranduil loved his children more than life itself and would do anything to protect them but even so his temper sometimes got the better of him. He had never hurt his sons – or anyone else outside of battle – but there was no telling what he would do through the grief of his son's death. Aragorn stood and walked quickly out the door, following Gandalf, and leaving four Hobbits and a Dwarf sitting dumbly at the great dining table.

"I must go and find Elrond," Aragorn shouted back to them as he walked out the doors. The room was left in an uncomfortable silence after the man left.

"It just goes to show, even the Prince of Mirkwood is a crazy Elf," Gimli grumbled under his breath, earning him stern looks from Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin.

**

Legolas slowly approached Rumil's room, a sense of dread coming over him for some reason, perhaps it was the thought of seeing his brother again or perhaps it was something more ominous. Two servants were sat outside the room with healers cleaning off their wounds and tending to their cuts and bruises, of which there seemed to be a fair few.

"What…? Did the King do this?" As soon as they heard Legolas' voice they all jumped to attention. "What happened? I got a message saying my father just attacked you," Legolas said, assessing at the servant's wounds, trying to think of reasons why his father would do something like this.

"Your Highness." One servant stepped forward. "We were merely coming to tend to your brother as the King had previously ordered but as soon as we went to touch the Prince the King started yelling and became quite irrational and aggressive with us." The servant sounded nervous, as though Legolas would do the same any second.

"What did he say exactly?" Legolas asked, looking towards the closed door.

"Forgive me, sir, but he said something about your mother being here," another servant said quietly.

"My mother? What did he say?" Legolas asked again, not satisfied with the vague answer.

"I don't really know, Your Highness, it didn't make too much sense."

"And then he hit you? For no reason whatsoever?" Legolas asked, trying to get things straight in his mind.

"Yes sir. He just attacked us. He hit us and then threw us out of the room, all the while shouting something incomprehensible about your mother and Prince Rumil."

"Alright, thank you. I will handle this now. One more thing: did you hit back?" Legolas asked, looking at them both evenly.

"My Lord, he is our king but he attacked us. We tried not to but…"

"It's alright. It's not your fault." Legolas placed a reassuring hand on the servant's shoulder.

"I tried to persuade King Thranduil to allow me to attend his wounds but he refused. After what happened I thought it best to leave him," one of the healers said apologetically.

"Good. Are they going to be alright?" Legolas asked, pointing to the two servants who were looking nervously at him like they had done something seriously wrong and were waiting for punishment.

"They will be fine, sir. Nothing a few stitches and a couple of hours rest won't fix," the healer smiled.

"Good. Take them to the healing halls and make sure they are well. I will speak with my father and try to find out what is going on. Send another healer but instruct them to wait outside until I send for them. I want the King calm before he comes into contact with any more of his staff. I really don't want more casualties today," Legolas instructed. The healers nodded and aided the servants to the healing halls then went to carry out the prince's instructions.

Legolas watched them leave then turned his attention to the door of his brother's room. He sighed heavily; he wasn't looking forward to facing his father based on what the servants had said the King was not in the best of moods. Gently he knocked on the door.

"Go away," Thranduil shouted harshly from inside.

"Ada, it's me, Legolas. Can I come in?" He didn't wait for a reply before opening the door.

What he saw in the room shocked him. Rumil was still lying on the bed and Thranduil was laid down next to him with his arms wrapped tightly around his son as if he was never going to let go. Legolas looked briefly around the room and saw that Rumil's personal belongings, which had previously been on the bedside tables, were lying on the bedroom floor. Some more delicate items were smashed while others were just recklessly discarded. The room itself was fairly dark with only a single candle burning. The shutters were tightly closed allowing no sunlight into the room. It was even more oppressive than last time Legolas had been inside.

"Ada, what happened?" Legolas asked, closing the door carefully behind him and stepping further into the room, being careful to avoid the objects scattered on the floor.

Thranduil closed his eyes and gripped Rumil's hand even tighter than before. "I said, go away," he warned dangerously.

"The servants outside said you attacked them. Is that true?" Legolas asked, wanting the truth from him father.

"No," Thranduil said firmly, his voice as angry as before.

"You're lying," Legolas stated, matching his father's tone.

"You would believe slaves over your own father and King?" Thranduil yelled as he abruptly let go of Rumil and jumped to his feet. He still held Rumil's hand though, not wanting to break contact with his dead son.

"Well, at least you're not shouting at me to go away," Legolas said, staring into his father's eyes.

Surprisingly, Thranduil laughed at this although it was not his usual musical laugh. He sounded angry, almost hysterical, as though he wasn't himself anymore. Legolas was both frightened and confused by this. "Ion nin, so much like your mother, it amazes me. But Rumil…" He looked down at his son and began gently stroking his hair. "Rumil was so much like me. My heir, my son." His voice drifted off; it was like he was talking to himself rather than to Legolas. "You would have made an excellent king if you had only been given the chance," Thranduil sighed to his deceased son, kissing his forehead softly.

"Ada," Legolas said, taking a step closer to his father, who was looking lovingly down at his dead son, whispering softly in Elvish. "Ada, please, you're scaring me," Legolas pleaded.

"No!" Thranduil shouted, taking a sudden step away from Rumil. "You're a liar! Constantly misleading me; making me believe things that aren't real." He shouted louder than Legolas had ever heard before. It was almost as if Thranduil had transformed into an angry being that Legolas didn't even recognise anymore. "I want Rumil to stay and they come with knives trying to take him away from me, trying to take my own son." Thranduil's voice softened at this last part and for the first time Legolas saw tears running down his face. "They will not take him away from me. Not again," Thranduil said softly, looking down at his dead child.

Thranduil's voice rose again when he next spoke though. He stepped forwards and held Rumil's hand tightly again. "They will not take him."

"Who, Ada? Who came with knives? Who would want to take Rumil away from you?" Legolas asked desperately. He wanted to understand what his father was thinking but he was beginning to doubt the king even knew what he was talking about.

"Are you blind? Can you not see? They will take him."

"Ada, please. You're tired and upset. Why don't you come to the healing halls with me? The healer's will make you feel better, I promise. Then we can sort this misunderstanding out," Legolas reasoned.

"No!" Thranduil roared. Never before had Legolas seen such an angry and crazed look in his father's icy eyes.

"Ada, tell me what is wrong, please," Legolas begged. "Did you attack those servants?" He was met with silence from the king. "Ada, why?"

"You know nothing. You're not like him, Legolas. You're not like Rumil. How could you ever expect to be as good as him?" Thranduil said sharply. He kissed Rumil's forehead lovingly again before striding over to a very confused Legolas. "What are you doing? You're just like them, wanting to take my son away from me."

"What? Ada, I don't want…"

"Quiet!" Thranduil ordered, hitting Legolas hard across the face.

"Ada," Legolas whimpered, turning back to bravely face his father. "I don't understand."

"You could never understand me!"

Thranduil raised his hand again and knocked Legolas to the floor with one easy blow. Legolas fell to the ground, surprised not only at the king's sudden action but also by his strength. Legolas wiped a small trail of blood from his lips and looked pitifully up at Thranduil who was now staring at his son in shock. There were fresh tears falling down his face and all the anger that had previously been there was replaced by regret and shock. He bent down and looked into bright blue eyes, which were glistening with tears.

"Legolas, I am so sorry. I don't know what…."

"Ada?" Legolas' voice was shaking. He was worried about what his father would do next.

"I don't know…I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he said as he put his hand to his face where Thranduil had just hit him. Just as Legolas was about to get up and help his father, Elrond burst into the room closely followed by Aragorn.

"Legolas, is everything alright?" Elrond asked urgently, reaching down to help Legolas up off the floor. The prince took his hand, accepting his help and dragged himself to his feet.

"It's alright. Everything's fine. I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened. It was just an accident," he replied, looking down at his father who was still sitting on the floor staring down at the stone flags.

"Thranduil?" Elrond asked, attracting the king's attention.

"I said everything is fine," Legolas snapped. "Take him to the healing halls and clean this place up," Legolas ordered one of the servants.

"No, I want to stay with my son. I want to stay with Rumil," Thranduil said, getting up surprisingly swiftly and walking over to Rumil.

"Rumil is dead," Legolas replied coldly before leaving and slamming the door closed behind him, leaving everyone in the room in complete shock. Thranduil was gripping Rumil's hand again, rocking back and forth and muttering something under his breath.

"Father, what's going on?" Aragorn asked Elrond, who was watching the king intently.

"I don't know, ion nin but I intend to find out." He took a step forward to the king. "Thranduil, you must let go of Rumil. You need to come to the healing halls with me." Elrond chose his words carefully, not wanting to upset the king again.

"I'm going to find Legolas," Aragorn told his father, striding from the room.

"Thranduil, why did you hurt Legolas? What did he do?"

"Go back to Rivendell, Elrond. My affairs are none of your concern. Mirkwood was just fine before you arrived," Thranduil snapped cruelly. "You come here and try to take my son away from me. Isn't that right, Rumil? Well, don't worry. I'll never let anyone hurt you ever again." The king was now ignoring Elrond completely and was focused only on his son.

"My Lord, if you wish to help your sons then you need to come with me. Come now. You don't want Rumil to wake up and see you like this, do you?"

"No, you are right, Elrond. I must be strong for Rumil," Thranduil nodded slowly.

"And for Legolas," Elrond prompted.

"And…Legolas." There was an unusually reluctant tone to Thranduil's voice that worried Elrond. "Yes, and Legolas."

"Come on. Let's get you out of here."

"Goodbye, Rumil." Thranduil kissed his son's forehead and slowly stood. However, before he could even take a single step forward his legs gave way beneath him and he fell forward. Luckily, Elrond was able to grab him before he hit the floor. He quickly shouted at one of the servants to help him and another to fetch Legolas.

**

Meanwhile, Aragorn ran after Legolas. Straight to the gardens; his favourite place in Mirkwood, out amongst the trees and nature where a Wood-Elf was meant to be. He almost ran through the doors that led to the beautiful gardens, knowing that Legolas would be upset from his father's cruel insults and would seek comfort from the trees. He walked around the garden for a moment, keeping his eyes on the trees where he knew his friend would be hiding. The prince took comfort in the trees as all Wood Elves did. Legolas seemed to have a particularly strong bond with them though. Aragorn stood at one tree and looked up into the branches.

"I know you're up there. You can't hide from me, you know that," Aragorn called up at the almost invisible form hidden amongst the branches.

With a frustrated sigh, Legolas jumped from the trees and landed gracefully in front of Aragorn. For a moment neither spoke. Aragorn had taken to inspecting the large bruise that was beginning to form on the side of Legolas' otherwise flawless face.

"Are you alright?" Aragorn asked after a couple of minutes.

"I'm fine," Legolas replied shortly.

"Good. Did he hurt you anywhere else?" Legolas was about to show his anger regarding the question when he saw the deep concern on the man's face and in his grey eyes. He decided to keep quiet and shook his head to answer Aragorn's question.

"Honestly Estel, I'm fine," Legolas reassured.

"Do you know why he did it? Why your father attacked you?" Aragorn pressed cautiously, he had already seen Legolas' opinion on this subject but he couldn't avoid the question. He needed to know that his friend was really alright.

"He did not _attack_ me, Aragorn, he merely lost his temper," Legolas snapped.

"I have seen your father lose his temper before. I have even been on the receiving end of his abuse but I know that he has never knocked you down like that before. You cannot tell me that that wasn't an attack," Aragorn said, his voice raising as he said it.

"I think I know my own father a little better than you know him, Estel. Anyway, he didn't hurt me. It is just a small bruise."

"A small bruise? He attacked you, Legolas. That is not normal, even for Thranduil," Aragorn shouted, trying to control his anger but failing miserably. "Something else is going on and I want to know what it is."

"There is nothing else going on, apart from what you have already seen."

"Then how do you explain your father?" Aragorn questioned.

"Explain my father? His son is dead. Do you not think that gives him the right to be just a little upset?" Legolas yelled.

"There is a difference between being upset and being violent."

"How dare you. Remember that just because you are friends with the Prince it does not give you the right to insult the King regardless of the circumstances," Legolas shouted.

"Legolas, I did not mean to insult your father or anger you. I am merely trying to help."

"Help? What can you possibly do?" he asked sarcastically.

"I don't know. I'm just…"

"Estel, he's dead. Rumil is dead. My brother…Estel." Legolas moved forwards and hugged his friend, burying his face in the man's tunic before finally allowing the tears for his brother to fall. "He's gone," Legolas said softly into Aragorn's tunic, his voice muffled by the material and his grief.

Aragorn pulled his upset friend close and held him tightly.

"It's alright," he reassured gently, rubbing a gentle hand up and down Legolas' back, hoping to offer at least some comfort.

"I am sorry," Legolas said, taking a deep breath to recover himself.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, mellon nin," Aragorn comforted. He felt Legolas gently nod his head against him and smiled.

Unnoticed by both of them, a servant from the palace was walking swiftly towards them. It was Aragorn who looked up first but he could sense the change in Legolas and he knew his friend heard the servant coming. Legolas gently pushed away from Aragorn and quickly regained his previously shattered composure.

"Your Highness, forgive me for interrupting you." The servant bowed to both of them. He noticed the angry look on Aragorn's face but he wasn't about to disobey Elrond's orders.

"What is it?" Legolas sighed tiredly.

"My Lord, it is your father. Lord Elrond has taken him to the healing halls. He told me to fetch you immediately," the servant said quickly.

"What is wrong with him?" Legolas asked urgently, his voice full of concern as he walked briskly towards the palace followed by the servant and Aragorn.

"I do not know, Your Highness. I was merely sent to deliver the message."

They quickly reached the healing rooms and Legolas all but ran through the doors and towards the bed where Elrond was treating his father. The King was lying completely still as Elrond checked his pulse. At Legolas' entrance, Elrond looked up from what he was doing and motioned for the prince to come closer.

"What is wrong?" Legolas asked quietly, not wanting to wake his apparently sleeping father.

"I don't honestly know. After you left I persuaded him to come here in the hope of calming him down but before we could go anywhere he collapsed. He has a fever but I can find no more obvious symptoms as of yet," Elrond whispered so as not to wake the King. "He regained consciousness a few minutes ago but he seemed disorientated, he didn't even know where he was. He became quite distressed so I thought it best to give him a light sleeping remedy, just to calm him." Legolas nodded slightly, keeping his gaze fixed on his brother.

"What could this be?" he asked, turning to Elrond.

"Like I said, there are no other symptoms, which is a good sign."

"You think it's grief, don't you? Grief for Rumil," Legolas interrupted.

"Not necessarily. He doesn't show any of the other classic symptoms of grief but as of yet I cannot rule anything out. It's a possibility."

"You're not telling me something," Legolas stated, looking deep into those chocolate brown eyes.

"We have to consider whatever killed your brother may also be affecting your father," Elrond said cautiously.

"You think he's going to die?"

"I didn't say that. It really is too early to tell. I really don't think we should be panicking just yet. This could just be a reaction to the shock of Rumil's death." Elrond placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Do not worry. I will find out what this is and what happened to your brother soon enough but you have to understand that Thranduil must be my priority."

"Of course. Please do everything you can for him."

"You have my word," Elrond smiled.

"Hannon le," Legolas whispered.

"Now, I'm sure you want to be with your father for a while but you should let a healer take a look at that wound," Elrond suggested, pointing to the bruise on Legolas' face and the cut on his lip.

"No, it's nothing really. I'll be alright."

"Legolas, please. Why don't you allow Estel to treat you. You mustn't go before your people in this state. You need to reassure them not make them more concerned about their prince." Elrond knew that Legolas would have no problem letting Aragorn look at the wound. They had done it for each other plenty of times when one of them had received an injury on their travels.

"Very well. But after that I wish to be with my father."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem. It may be a little while before he wakes up." Legolas nodded thoughtfully and took one last look at Thranduil before leaving with Aragorn. Elrond sighed as soon as they were gone. He had not been looking forward to that discussion with Legolas but it had to be done. He really didn't know what was wrong with Mirkwood's King. He had his suspicions though: it was the same thing that killed the Crown Prince. If he was right he currently had no way of helping Thranduil. Elrond decided that if Thranduil was being affected by the same thing as Rumil then the only way to help him was to find a cure and to do that he needed to take another look at Rumil's body.

He walked up to one of the more senior healers in Mirkwood and whispered to him, "Make sure the king is kept comfortable. I will return before Legolas. If there is any change come and find me at once." He quickly left the room for Rumil's chambers.

TBC….

**Translations: **

**Ada - **Dad

**Mellon nin – **My friend

**Ion nin – **My son

**Hannon le – **Thank you

**

**


	6. More Bad News

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

**

**Mirkwood's Plague**

******

**Chapter 6 ~ More Bad News**

"Well, I certainly don't understand it but then who does understand the minds of Elves?" Gimli said gruffly.

"I wouldn't speak like that in a realm full of very fierce warrior Elves, Master Gimli," Gandalf's voice boomed with a hint of comedy hidden behind his stern words. Although he was only _half_ joking.

The four Hobbits laughed at the horror on Gimli's face when he heard this warning. He squinted his eyes and began scanning the canopy of the trees, presumably looking for an Elf poised with an arrow to strike him down should he dare insult them again. Instead of arrow tips he merely saw numerous sets of stone-cold eyes staring coolly back at him.

"Well…the Mirkwood Elves have been very nice so far," Gimli said overly loudly, quickly plastering a smile across his face, hoping the guards wouldn't take his first comment too personally. Gandalf laughed at the Dwarf who was still looking around nervously for the weapon which he believed any minute would hit him.

"Don't worry, Gimli. I'm sure they won't attack you," Gandalf smiled.

"Something seems…I don't know…_wrong_," Frodo said, listening to the silence all around them. "They aren't singing. I thought the Elves always sang."

"Maybe they have nothing to sing about," Pippin suggested cheerfully, as always looking on the bright side.

"Where did Legolas – sorry, _Prince_ Legolas – go?" Merry asked, looking to Gandalf for an answer.

"Something is happening in Mirkwood. Frodo is right, something is wrong and it is not just the lack of singing. There is a shadow over Mirkwood that I have not felt for a long time. They feel it also." Gandalf gestured to the Elves concealed in the trees.

"What is it?" Pippin asked cautiously.

"Now, that's for the King and Legolas to answer. No doubt there will be an official announcement soon enough."

"There's something you're not telling us," Frodo stated.

"Yes indeed, but it is not for me to divulge. I am not the King of Mirkwood. It is not my place to answer such questions. Like I said, it is up to the prince or king," Gandalf said sternly.

"Well, let's go and find Legolas then," Gimli grumbled, walking towards the palace, still eyeing the trees nervously. The others just smiled and followed him.

**

Legolas sat by his father's bed watching him silently. The King had been sleeping for several hours, not moving or making a sound. Legolas, although being told by Elrond that his father was in no immediate danger, found this extremely unnerving.

"Legolas?" Thranduil finally mumbled, still keeping his eyes firmly shut.

Legolas leaned closer, gently taking his father's cold hand in his own. He had never seen his normally strong father in such a state before and it was frightening to know the king could be so vulnerable instead of the strong, unflappable leader the prince and Mirkwood's people knew so well.

"Ada, I'm here," Legolas whispered.

"Legolas," the king repeated, this time opening his eyes and fixing them on the concerned - and slightly bruised - face of his son.

"It's alright, Ada. You're going to be fine," Legolas reassured. Thranduil blinked several times, clearing the blurriness from his vision before staring up at his obviously concerned son.

"What happened? I don't remember anything," Thranduil said, his unusually weak voice laced with confusion and concern.

"It is nothing to worry about for now. Just try and rest," Legolas soothed.

"Ion nin, you will never know how sorry…"

"Shhh, Ada."

Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and focusing properly on Legolas. He frowned when he saw the bruise forming on his son's face. He raised his hand and touched the bruise, not missing Legolas' flinch.

"I did this," Thranduil murmured under his breath brushing his fingers over the bruised flesh until Legolas took his hand and replaced it on the bed with a reassuring squeeze.

"Ada, it doesn't matter. Please, it's not important. Just rest," Legolas urged not wanting to remember or mention the things his father had said and done to him earlier.

"What else did I do?" Thranduil asked, looking sleepily at his son.

"Shh, Ada. Rest." Legolas moved forward and squeezed Thranduil's hand gently, reassuringly.

"Tell me, please," Thranduil said with a note of pleading in his hoarse voice.

"Ada, it's not important. I'm fine. I really am. But you are still unwell, you must rest. You don't want to disobey Elrond's instructions and he says it is important that you rest."

"And since when did Lord Elrond give the orders around here?" Thranduil smiled weakly.

"Since you became so difficult," Legolas laughed. He realised that Thranduil was already back asleep and he couldn't hide his relief that he didn't have to explain it all to his father. He was massively grateful that Thranduil didn't remember anything either.

"Legolas?" Elrond's voice came from the door. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Ada was awake just now though," Legolas replied, standing up and walking over to Elrond before their voices woke Thranduil.

"That's good. How was he?"

"A little confused but at least he was more like himself this time. I don't think he remembers much about what happened. I thought it best not to tell him until he gets better."

"That's probably for the best," Elrond smiled, looking critically over at the king.

"I hate lying to him though," the prince sighed.

"I know but telling him the truth now will only make him more distressed. Trust me, you did the right thing," Elrond put his hand on Legolas' shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort to the prince.

"Did you have any luck figuring out what was wrong with Rumil?" Legolas asked. "Do you know what's wrong with Ada?"

"I don't. I have an idea but I must confirm it first."

"If you think you know what's wrong with him then please tell me." Legolas looked at him with pleading blue eyes.

"Legolas, I..."

"Please, Elrond."

"Alright. I believe your father is 'infected' with the same thing as your brother and his guards. I traced back some of his symptoms and looked at the bodies of the other victims. From what I've seen, the symptoms match Thranduil's. I'm sorry." Elrond had been dreading telling Legolas this but he knew the prince had a right to know what was going on.

"Are you certain?" he asked quietly.

"Legolas, I know this is difficult but I have to be honest with you, I'm almost certain this is not grief; the symptoms are just all wrong. The next logical assumption is that the same thing that killed the others is also affecting the king." Elrond watched as Legolas moved to sit on a near-by couch.

"Is…is my father going to die?" Legolas asked in a voice filled with grief and concern.

"I'm sorry, Legolas but I am still no closer to finding a cure. There is nothing in any of the usual texts about such a disease," Elrond answered.

"Is it poison?"

"No I don't think so. I found no traces of the recorded poisons in Rumil's body. I would say this was a disease of some kind. It would explain how it spread so quickly through that town and passed onto the guards and Rumil."

"A disease?" Legolas questioned, suddenly much more alert. "But Elves are immune to all illnesses."

"There are some diseases – although they are incredibly rare – that do affect Elves. I have never come across one myself but I have read about them. They are usually far more vicious and contagious than those of Men or Dwarves."

"But there must be a cure, something you can do to help him," Legolas pleaded, a twinge of hope in his otherwise saddened voice.

"I don't know that there is a cure."

"So you will not try?" Legolas yelled standing and no longer caring about waking his father as his temper irrationally flared.

"Calm down, mellon nin. Of course I will try. I will do everything in my power to help your father but…"

"But what?"

"But I don't want you getting your hopes up too high. However, you and I have far more important things to worry about right now."

"What could possibly be more important than the king's welfare?"

"How about the welfare of the king's realm?" Elrond whispered, not wanting to alert Thranduil or anyone else of their conversation.

"What?"

"This disease is obviously able to spread quickly. It went from the town to Rumil and his party almost instantly and killed every one of them. Who do you think it's going to affect next?"

"Mirkwood," Legolas breathed, realisation dawning on him.

"If it is affecting the king then it's already in Mirkwood."

"We have to evacuate the kingdom," Legolas said, his voice more determined now.

"And where do we go? We have no idea whether it's going to affect other races or even other Elves. If we leave Mirkwood we risk spreading the disease and killing even more people. We can't do that no matter how much you want to protect your people."

"Of course, you're right. So, what do we do? We can't just stand by and watch this disease kill off every Elf in Mirkwood," Legolas said, trying to keep his voice level despite his rising terror.

"I will continue to search for a cure. In the meantime you have to inform your people and make sure they don't panic. No one can leave or enter Mirkwood."

"And my father?" Legolas asked nervously, looking over at Thranduil who was lying completely still on the bed; only the gentle rise and fall of his chest showing that he was alive.

"Like I said, until I know what it is, there isn't much I can do other than make him comfortable."

"Just do everything you can. I should go and tell the others what is happening, they have a right to know the truth," the younger Elf said.

"The truth about what?" Aragorn's voice came from the door. "Legolas, is everything alright?"

"What's not alright?" Gimli's voice came from the other direction.

"What? What's going on?" asked a very confused Pippin.

"Nothing is going on," Legolas sighed, hoping their voices wouldn't wake the king who was – so far – still sleeping. "Please keep your voices down."

"What happened? Is your father alright?" Merry asked, trying to get a better look at Thranduil by standing on his tip-toes and craning his neck.

"Come with me to Ada's office and I will explain everything," Legolas ushered everyone but Elrond out of the room. Before he left, he cast a nervous glance towards Thranduil then shifted his gaze towards Elrond who gave him a reassuring nod. Legolas just smiled his thanks and left the room.

_**Translations:**_

_**Ada:**__ Dad_

_**Ion nin:**__ My son_

_**_


	7. Mirkwood's Plague

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing Tolkien created.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Mirkwood's Plague**

**Chapter 7 ~ Mirkwood's Plague**

"Well, what's going on?" Pippin asked Legolas, who was sitting at his father's desk watching his friend.

"I really wish I knew," the prince sighed. "Until we can figure out what is going on I suggest you all stay inside the palace walls. I'd feel much better knowing where everyone is from now on."

"You're in charge, I suppose," Gimli said.

"Forgive me, my friends, I didn't mean to order you around. I am merely thinking of your own safety."

"My dear Legolas, you are in charge. We will all do as you say," Gandalf smiled and the others nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," Legolas smiled, a look of relief on his otherwise troubled face. "I appreciate your patience. I understand that this wasn't the visit you were expecting. I'm afraid, Gimli, that you are not going to see Mirkwood at its best," Legolas smiled sadly towards the Dwarf.

"What I have seen so far has been…satisfactory," the Dwarf 'complimented'.

"Satisfactory? I'm…" A servant cut Legolas off at this point by bursting through the doors.

"Your Highness, forgive me but there is something you need to see. Immediately," the servant blurted out.

"What is it?" Legolas asked, all traces of humour now gone from his voice.

"I… you must see for yourself." The servant grabbed Legolas' arm, much to his surprise, and literally dragged him down the corridor seemingly unconcerned at the lack of royal etiquette. When they finally reached the entrance, the servant stopped and pushed the door open. What Legolas and the others, who had followed him out, saw was something they would never forget for as long as they lived. There were hundreds of people crowded in the palace courtyard. All wore the same terrified look. When Legolas stepped into the crowd they surged forward, crying out in pain and desperation.

They all looked like Rumil had: exhausted, confused and terrified. Most were screaming at their prince to help them, to do anything. One Elf-maiden was holding a screaming baby in her arms. She held him towards Legolas, saying something the prince could not understand, their voices all melded together making an indistinguishable drone.

He just stood watching the pale faces trying to push their way forwards as if a mere glance at their prince would cure them. Legolas looked around, amazed and horrified at what he saw. One Elf jumped forward and fell to his knees in front of Legolas and reached out with his hands. When Legolas instinctively pulled away from him, the Elf grabbed hold of Legolas' legs and held on tightly as though his life depended on it. Legolas made no further move to remove the Elf and soon more people were reaching out to touch him as if he could cure them.

Aragorn, who was standing directly behind his friend, was also something for them to cling onto. They pulled on his tunic, all hoping to just touch him. He was just as stunned as Legolas and didn't move even when their struggles became more desperate.

"Are they all from Mirkwood?" Aragorn asked as soon as he could speak again.

"I don't know. They can't be. Even if this is a disease of some kind there's no way it could have spread this quickly. Rumil only returned this morning."

"I've never seen anything like this," Aragorn said, holding a sobbing woman to his chest.

"You!" Legolas shouted to the servant who had led them. "Go fetch Lord Elrond right away. Take the others inside and keep them out of harm's way." The servant rushed off with the visitors running after him. "Estel, I know you haven't practiced healing in a while but I could really use your help."

"Of course. I don't know that I can do much to cure them though."

"Then at least try to ease their suffering."

"I'm going to need somewhere to work and some supplies."

"Our healing halls will provide you with whatever you need."

"I'll be right back," Aragorn told him, gently prying the woman off him and turned to leave. As he got inside he almost walked into Elrond.

"Estel, what's going on?"

"How is the king?"

"No better and I am no closer to a cure."

"Then you're not going to like what's out there."

Elrond watched as Aragorn dashed away. He stepped outside and suddenly saw what his son meant. Legolas was standing amongst two hundred Elves, all looking as bad as Thranduil.

"Legolas?" Elrond asked as soon as he was close enough for the prince to hear. "What's happening? Where did all these people come from?"

Almost immediately Elrond was surrounded by people begging for help with all the energy they had left in their battered bodies. He recognised the same dark bruises on their bodies as he had seen on Rumil's corpse. He had seen war and suffering before but never anything quite like this. There was a mad, desperate look in their clouded eyes that told Elrond that they would do anything for just a second with a healer and that was a disturbing thought; when put in that kind of situation they were capable of anything. Clearly these people were not thinking straight. Elrond didn't need to examine them to know that. He spotted some of the worst cases amidst the crowd being held up by family and friends. All were pleading for help but those worst affected looked completely drained of energy unable to do anything but be pulled along by the pitiful crowd. Elrond noticed that the Elves' eyes were glazed over in agony, their faces desperate and pale. He also saw blood streaking down their faces; exactly the same signs he saw on Rumil when he had examined him earlier on. One of the most affected grabbed Legolas' arm and quickly handed him her baby before collapsing back into the mass of people. The prince merely stared at the screeching baby in his arms for a moment before turning to Elrond with pleading eyes, hoping the older Elf would have some idea of what to do next.

Elrond caught Legolas' gaze and held it only for a second before he realised he was being asked to help. He took one last fleeting look around before prising the gripping hands of the diseased off him. The hands were not so easy to pull off of Legolas and it took all their strength to pull the doors closed behind them.

Legolas and Elrond stood stunned in the relative peace of the hallway for a moment before Legolas finally spoke.

"We have to help them. We have to do something." He made to open the doors again but Elrond grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You can't go back out there," he warned.

"And I can't stand in here and do nothing whilst my people are dying," Legolas snapped, tears in his eyes.

"You are the Prince of Mirkwood and you are leader of these people, you are the only hope they have and you need to be alive and well for them. If you go back out there they'll tear you to shreds."

"There are so many of them," Legolas muttered disbelievingly. His eyes filled with tears of sympathy for his people and he looked pleadingly at Elrond.

"Yes there are and they need their prince to be strong for them."

Legolas nodded and took a deep breath to regain his already fragile composure. "Of course you are right, my Lord. What do you propose we do next?" As he said this Aragorn rejoined them and took the baby from the prince's arms.

"I suggest that you take charge. We will treat as many as we can as fast as possible. We might not have a cure for this but we can certainly treat the symptoms."

Legolas looked at the doors again, contemplating whether he should go outside or not. He shook his head and turned to face Aragorn, who was rocking the baby in his arms. Legolas realised with relief that it had finally stopped crying. He walked over to Aragorn and looked down at the baby. He placed a gentle hand on it smooth face and Aragorn noticed with concern that it was shaking slightly. Both looked up and bright blue eyes met stormy grey for a moment. Something then seemed to click in Legolas' mind and he suddenly knew what he had to do.

He turned sharply to Elrond, a new determination set on his handsome face.

"Alright," he said, walking confidently past Elrond, who obediently followed, briefly glancing back at Aragorn. "Elrond, I want you to turn the halls into healing areas, make use of any available space in the palace. Empty the healing halls of anything useful. I want as many people as possible to be treated." He stopped at the healing halls and summoned all the healers to him. "I want as many people as possible working on a cure for this – or at least trying to find out what it is. The rest are to treat as many patients as you can. I realise this is a lot to ask of you but we have to find a cure as fast as we can. Elrond, you will be in charge of the healing halls, everyone report to either me, Elrond or Aragorn. Top priority for the guards is to make sure no one leaves Mirkwood, your top priority is to help the sick."

"What about those beyond aid?" Elrond asked, knowing it was something they couldn't possibly ignore under the circumstances. "Do we treat their symptoms as well?"

Legolas was silent for a moment. He took a steadying breath before speaking. "No," he said firmly. "Those you know are beyond aid, leave. Make them as comfortable as you can but we cannot afford to waste our resources on the hopeless cases." It was hard for him to say and hard for them to hear but it had to be done. Elrond nodded gently in agreement.

Legolas nodded sharply to the healers before walking out of the room, closely followed by Elrond. Once the door was closed he leaned back against the wall and put a hand over his face, wishing this was all a bad dream but when he took his hand away he saw a sad-looking Elrond watching him. The elder Elf placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder.

"You did the right thing. Those things had to be said. Your people need to know what's happening, they need to see you taking charge." Legolas nodded weakly, looking around him, anywhere but Elrond's eyes.

"How is Ada?" he asked with a sigh. "Is he any better?"

"I honestly don't know. I believe his condition is deteriorating. I promise I'll let you know if there is any major change."

"Maybe I should go and see him," Legolas said, looking desperately for an excuse to leave this madness behind, if only for a moment.

"He is unconscious at the moment." Elrond watched Legolas transform from the proud, controlled Prince of Mirkwood serving his King, to the child who worried for his father. It was only now that Elrond realised how unfair all this must have been on him. Just that morning he had discovered that his beloved brother was dead and now half of Mirkwood was sick with the same kind of fast-spreading disease, from which his father was also suffering. It was cruel and Elrond hated to see his friend looking so lost.

"What about the rest of the Fellowship?" Legolas' voice took on the tone of a leader once more.

"They are completely unaffected. The Hobbits are still hungry and Gimli is as grumpy as ever. I think this virus, or whatever it is, only affects Elves."

"Then we can send one of them to Imladris. Your people can help us."

Elrond shook his head. "The disease is obviously transmitted through people; it might be carried by all species. If you allow people out of this kingdom it could spread outside Mirkwood. We simply cannot risk spreading it any further."

"We have to do something. My people are dying," Legolas yelled. He lowered his voice though when a startled healer walked past. She just carried on walking, pretending not to have heard anything. "I will not stand back and do nothing. I can't."

**TBC…**

**


	8. Downward Spiral

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed. Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy it.**

**Chapter 8 ~ Downward Spiral**

Elrond was currently treating a small, wailing child who was clinging to her worried – and also sick - father in terror. There were cries coming from almost every makeshift bed in the Great Hall. People were crying out for help from the already over-worked and stressed healers, who were trying their best to help as many people as possible with their limited supplies. Even as Elrond walked past, many of the Elves reached out to him, their hands grabbing at him whenever he moved within reach. Some of them were just lying on their beds, some of which were merely blankets on the floor. When Elrond walked past these silent sufferers their eyes pleaded with him for help of any kind. These people were by now too exhausted to call out for help and they were the people Elrond sympathised with the most; those past any possible aid but could only be helped with the excruciating pain they suffered.

Elrond knelt down beside one guard. He touched his forehead gently, which caused the sick being to turn his face towards Elrond. It was pale save for the small red trickle of blood coming from the corner his mouth. He tried to speak but because of the blood it came out as more of a senseless gurgle. Blood trickled down his chin and a mixture of pain and panic flooded his glazed eyes. Elrond reached for a clean cloth from his medical supplies and gently wiped away the blood. The Elf closed his eyes although Elrond wasn't sure whether it was from pain or embarrassment. He whispered some encouraging words as he reached down to retrieve a canteen of water. He carefully lifted the Elf's head off the pillow and trickled the water down his throat. The fading Elf swallowed noisily, no longer caring what he looked like in front of the Elven Lord. When he had had his fill he pulled back slightly and Elrond laid him back down.

The Elf watched Elrond as he replaced the canteen. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice weak and laced with pain.

Elrond smiled. "You are welcome."

The Elf was silent for a moment before speaking and looking into Elrond's large brown eyes. "Am I going to die?" the Elf asked gently.

Elrond leaned forward so the Elf could clearly see him. "No," he finally said. "No, you are not going to die." Elrond knew the Elf was already dying, just like all the others, but he didn't want to upset him any further. However, it seemed he already knew that Elrond was lying as his face fell at Elrond's answer. He reached for the healer's hand and the Elven Lord held it tightly, hoping to offer some comfort.

**

Legolas was sitting at the desk in his father's study, sifting through piles of papers and flipping through heavy, leather bound books, hoping to find any mention of the disease or the town Rumil had visited. He suspected it had all begun there so any information about what happened in that place could prove useful. Still, he felt like he was trespassing in his father's business. He simply wasn't used to going through the king's work. It was always something that was strictly forbidden, even when he was older. Thranduil greatly valued his privacy, especially when it came to his work. Legolas remembered thinking of this study as a sacred place, somewhere he couldn't go no matter how much he wanted to. As a child he had been constantly curious about what was contained within the thick, leather-bound books his father kept locked away. Now he had access to them he dreaded what he would find. He knew that any information would be useful. Unfortunately, so far he had found nothing of importance in his father's journals. It was mostly concerning the political happenings in Mirkwood.

A knock at the door made him look up from the book he was currently reading, which was describing a typical day in Mirkwood. Legolas thanked the Valar that his father had kept such meticulous diaries; it was just a shame that so far they had turned up nothing.

"Enter," he called to the visitor.

Legolas looked up to see Elrond standing at the doorway. He looked more tired than Legolas ever remembered seeing him. His hands were covered in blood despite the fact he was wiping his hands on an already blood-stained white cloth.

"Lord Elrond," Legolas greeted. "Is everything alright?" He pushed the book he was reading aside for the moment.

"Yes. Well, no."

"Please, come in. I've been searching through my father's journals for any mention of that town. I thought perhaps there might be some clues as to what happened there."

"And have you found anything?" Elrond asked, sitting down heavily in the chair opposite Legolas.

"Nothing so far." Legolas looked down at the book. "Ada kept excellent notes but there's no mention of the town. Maybe I haven't got there yet or maybe it just wasn't worth mentioning." Legolas sighed heavily and looked over at Elrond who was watching the table with considerable interest. "How are the patients?"

"There are hundreds of them. So many and there is nothing we can do. I've examined Rumil again but I haven't really found anything useful. I'm working on a few remedies but I don't know how effective they're going to be." Elrond leaned back in his chair, briefly remembering all the people he had seen dying that day.

"I thank you for all you are doing to help my people, Lord Elrond," Legolas said, interrupting the thoughtful silence.

"Of course. I only wish there was more I could do. I will continue my search for a cure but I just hope more people won't die before I find it." Elrond's voice was filled with regret and sorrow as he spoke and Legolas wished there was something he could say or do to comfort the older Elf. When Elrond looked up the sadness had cleared from his eyes. "I should get back."

"Yes, I'll keep looking through these. Anything is better than nothing, right? Ada doesn't seem to like writing about public opinion but I suppose it is best to keep busy," Legolas smiled.

"Just make sure you get some rest. Today has been very traumatic for you; you must be shattered. Take some time out for yourself. Get something to eat, sit with your brother, anything." Elrond looked seriously down at Legolas as he stood up. He was aware of the prince's condition after his excursion with the Fellowship; something had changed in him, although he never talked about it, it was clear to those closest to him that the quest had greatly affected him.

"Elrond, my people are dying. How can I rest at a time like this?"

"By remembering that your people need you to be alert. They need you to appear strong, even if you don't feel it. Your hope gives them hope." Legolas smiled thinly at Elrond.

"I need to be with my people. Not in my bed." Elrond nodded thoughtfully. He had been expecting that answer.

"Alright," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "I figured you would say something like that. Once you've looked through those papers perhaps you could stop by the Great Hall. An appearance from Mirkwood's Prince would be much appreciated."

"Of course," Legolas nodded, going back to searching through the thick book. It was becoming increasingly evident that it was an exercise in futility. He vaguely heard Elrond leaving the room but he didn't bother looking up. He thought about everything that was happening, tried to imagine what his father would do in his position but the answer eluded him. His mind simply didn't seem to be working properly. There was an annoying pounding in his head and a slightly shaking in his hands that he seemed to be incapable of controlling no matter how hard he tried. He had not mentioned any of this to Elrond, of course. He did not want to appear incapable of ruling his own people. He knew that Elrond would not hesitate in taking over responsibility of leadership if Legolas asked; not that he ever would. In a way Legolas wished the Lord of Imladris would take over, he knew more about handling crises than anyone else. He started the quest to destroy the One Ring, so he was used to such things.

Still, Legolas could not, in good conscience, hand the responsibility over to Elrond - he had enough to deal with. Besides, he needed Elrond's complete concentration on finding a cure. Mirkwood's future depended on it, as did his father's life. Legolas slammed the book closed when he had finished the last entry. There was nothing at all useful in his father's writings. His father had either known nothing about it or had simply not bothered to include it in his logs. Legolas placed his hands over his face in despair; this was getting him no where. He was wasting time his people simply didn't have.

As he took his hand away he saw blood on his palms. Quickly he put his fingers to his face again and when he pulled back there was more slick, bright red blood. He leapt from his seat and strode to the mirror on the far wall. A small trickle of blood was coming from his nose. He stared at himself for a minute before furiously wiping it away. He cleaned his face, straightened his tunic and took a steadying breath. He walked confidently to the door and left his father's study, locking the door behind him.

He strode through the corridors towards the Great Hall. The halls were so quiet, although a grim wailing could be heard echoing throughout the palace. Legolas continued walking, not allowing himself to be pulled in by their pitiful cries. On his way to the Hall he stopped at the royal healing room in which his father was being treated. Opening the door carefully, not making any noise that could disturb the king, he stepped inside.

TBC…

**What's up with Legolas? Will Elrond find the cure? How will Mirkwood survive? Tune in on Saturday to find out. Oh, and leave a little review. Thanks.**

_**Translations:**_

_**Ada - **__Dad_


	9. Taking Hold

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Here's the next chapter as promised.**

**Chapter 9 ~ Taking Hold**

Legolas sat down in the seat placed next to his father's bed and took the king's cold, limp hand in his own. Thranduil stirred and mumbled something under his breath but did not wake. Legolas watched him sleeping for a while before taking a deep, steadying breath and standing. As much as he wanted to stay, watching over his father, making sure nothing terrible happened he knew that Mirkwood was in trouble and he was its only hope. He kissed Thranduil's forehead and squeezed his hand once more before walking from the room. He walked purposefully down the halls not allowing himself to be distracted by the horrendous scenes around him. As he reached the Great Hall, where he knew Elrond would be, he slowed. The crying of the dying and the sick got louder, growing in intensity so much that Legolas wondered how anyone could survive such anguish. Entering the Hall was like walking into a nightmare so shocking that you woke from your sleep with a scream. This, however, was no dream and Legolas did not wake up and instead of a scream a sob caught in his throat at the sight of his people in such agony.

There were people everywhere. Hardly any of the spacious Great Hall was free. Only small walkways that allowed the greatly outnumbered healers to walk amongst the multiple patients were visible on the floor. Amidst the chaos Legolas spotted Elrond who was leaning over a young maiden trying to get her to drink something but she seemed to only be capable of coughing it back up. Aragorn was also there, tending to the sick people who were still able to stand. It looked as though he was trying to calm them more than treat them. He glanced up at Legolas, a sorrowful look in his stormy grey eyes.

Legolas took another tentative step into the room but was quickly stopped by someone weakly calling his name. He looked down and saw one of the guards who had spent much of his time guarding the king and his family. Legolas knelt down next to him and took his cold hand.

"Your Highness," the guard said as formally as possible with a mouthful of blood. "No one is guarding the Eastern border, sir." The guard seemed genuinely concerned, looking to his prince for some kind of reassurance that he hadn't done anything drastically wrong.

"It's alright," Legolas said, almost choking on his words. "I'll sort it out."

This seemed to please the guard and he leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"My Lord, my family. My wife will not know what is wrong. She will be worried."

"I'll find her and let her know what happened," Legolas reassured trying to keep an even voice.

"Thank you." That was the guard's final breath. His hand loosened in Legolas' and his eyes glazed over. Legolas just sat there for a moment, staring at the now lifeless guard he had known all his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by another voice calling his name. He shuffled over to someone close by. The Elf, a healer, grabbed Legolas' arm, apparently forgetting his previous nervousness of the royal family.

"Prince, please tell my daughter that I love her very much." Legolas could only nod now, unable to force words past the lump in his throat. "Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't help her through this."

"I'll tell her," Legolas promised.

"Please, Sire, my wife, how is she?" the healer asked, squeezing Legolas' arm as tightly as his weak condition allowed. "She is right beside me but…I cannot see her."

Legolas looked to the Elf's side and saw a young maiden, lying completely still, eyes unseeing and glazed in death. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again he saw that Elrond was now standing over him. He was looking sadly down at Legolas and the sick Elf he was talking to.

Legolas turned back to the patient and smiled as convincingly as he could, "She looks fine." He looked up at Elrond for approval and the elder Elf just nodded grimly. When he looked back to the healer he once more had his eyes closed, concentrating on continuing to breathe for his wife's sake.

Finally, Legolas stood up, looking to Elrond again as though he could offer some comfort. Looking at the devastation around him, Legolas had to use all his will-power to keep from running from the room.

"How many?" he asked Elrond.

"Roughly: two hundred patients. I have treated as many as I can but I don't know how much more I can do without a cure. There are more people coming in every minute."

"Excuse me, Your Highness," a healer with bloodied hands interrupted. Legolas could do nothing but stare at those hands. "Lord Elrond, ten more people just came in but we have no more room."

This seemed to jar Legolas out of his thoughts and he suddenly knew what he had to do. Choking back the cry that threatened to escape him at any moment he turned to face the entire room.

Above the cacophony of noise he shouted for people's attention, startling both Elrond and the healer.

"Please, listen to me." Slowly the noise calmed down from both patients and the struggling healers so they could hear their beloved prince. "I know this is a terrible situation, friends, but I ask you to try to remain strong. We are doing everything in our power to get this under control. Although no cure is currently available we are working on it and we will find it soon. Until then, I ask that you remain patient until a healer can tend to you. We are a strong kingdom. We will get through this." He paused for a moment. "We will be transferring some of you to the other halls. I ask that you all remain where you are and be strong." Legolas' speech was met with silence for a moment before a gentle murmuring started up.

Soon his people were throwing questions at him. Every single set of eyes stared at him with complete trust.

"Where is King Thranduil?" someone shouted above the noise.

"The King…the King is working with the healers to find a cure." Legolas didn't think it would be a good idea to tell the people that their king was in the same position as them. "Can the healers join me over here please?" Legolas called. The noise increased again, although the cries were calmer than before.

Legolas and the others moved out of the way a little so they wouldn't be overheard discussing this next difficult topic.

"That was very good," Elrond complimented, placing a hand firmly on Legolas' shoulder in reassurance and he was slightly surprised to find it trembling even though the young Elf was trying hard to disguise it.

Ignoring Elrond's comment – not wanting to be congratulated for what he had just said; blatantly lying to his people was not a good thing in his eyes – Legolas turned to the healers. "I know you have all been through a lot today but I need you to do one more thing for me." He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to speak the terrible words he knew he had to. "We need to remove the dead." His request was met with shocked silence and Elrond now understood why the prince had led him outside. No one else needed to hear this, it would only cause panic. "I know this is a grim task to ask of you but we need to make room for the new patients. Try and remove them without causing too much fuss – make out they are still alive so as not to alert anyone of your actions."

"What do we do with them, my Lord?" a reluctant, trembling voice asked.

At this question Legolas looked up at Elrond for guidance and was pleased when the healer offered it. "Take them outside. Burning the bodies is the only way to contain the disease, otherwise it might spread further."

Looks of horror and grief spread over the gathered healers and one or two of them began to cry onto their colleagues. Legolas could tell they had almost reached their limit. Some were also showing early signs of the illness whilst others just looked utterly resigned to the fate of their kingdom.

"I know what you are sacrificing being out amongst those people. I will not keep you here against your will. You may return to your families if you wish so long as you do not cross the borders of the kingdom."

There was an uneasy silence for a moment before someone spoke up. It was a relatively young female healer who looked absolutely horrified at the situation. "We stay with our prince, my Lord," she said quietly. Murmurs of agreement struck up through the group. Legolas nodded his thanks, unable to find the right words.

"Let's clear every spare room in Mirkwood and turn them into healing halls," Elrond instructed in Legolas' place. "Treat the children first. They have to be the priority."

"I'll go and organise the pyres and round up some people to help," Aragorn said, placing a hand on Legolas' shoulder and offering his friend a weak smile before walking off to do his duty.

"Let's also have some people get or make some more healing supplies. We're going to need all we can get a hold of," Elrond added.

"I'll do that," one of the healers said, breaking away from the group.

"Also, anyone who can walk needs to help with something. Treat as many people as you can as fast as you can. Your job is to keep them alive and as comfortable as possible until I find a cure. And make sure no one leaves the confines of the palace – we need to keep this contained at all costs."

Legolas listened intently just pleased someone else was taking charge even if only for a minute. After a few words of encouragement from Legolas the healers departed to face the grim task ahead of them.

The prince walked back into the main hall and rolled his sleeves up. "Legolas?" Elrond asked questioningly, following him.

"I may not be a healer, Elrond, but I will not sit back and let my people suffer through this alone." He picked up one of the dead bodies gently with the help of another healer who seemed equally surprised at his prince mucking in with the rest of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aragorn and his volunteers had built a makeshift funeral pyre in the courtyard of the palace, upon which a hundred or so bodies were haphazardly placed. It was a pitiful sight, one that took Legolas' breath away. The prince, Aragorn and Elrond were now stood in front of the macabre structure. Legolas was holding a flaming torch in his hand ready to light it and the fire flickered slightly in the breeze. It was just starting to get dark and Mirkwood was eerily silent, as though everyone knew what was happening outside. Legolas had sent most people back inside for this, not wanting them to witness the gruesome sight although Legolas himself had insisted upon being there. He had been carrying these bodies all day and his muscles and heart ached from the task.

At last, he whispered "Please forgive me" in soft Elvish and lowered the flame to the oil-soaked wood. The fire instantly sprung up, setting the bodies alight a second later. All three recoiled in horror at what they were seeing, whilst the other healers and soldiers who remained in the courtyard turned to look at the smoke lapping at the dark sky, as if the souls of the dead were clawing desperately to reach the heavens. All bowed their heads and Legolas heard whispered prayers drifting on the air.

Staring at the flames, Legolas' eyes filled with tears but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Legolas, come away," Elrond whispered gently, not wanting to break the reverent hush of the night. He placed his hands on Legolas' shoulders and pulled him closed, whispering more firmly. "Come away now."

Elrond practically dragged Legolas away from the pyre and led him back into the palace. Elrond knew how hard this was on the young prince; these were his people, his friends.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked gently, looking up into grief-stricken eyes. Legolas just shook his head and walked unsteadily away, using the wall for support. Aragorn went to go after him but Elrond grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Let him go. Give him a few minutes to pull himself together." Aragorn nodded slowly and sat down on a near-by chair. He covered his face with his hands, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Estel, go and get some rest. We can manage here for a while without you."

"But Legolas…" the man went to protest.

"Don't worry, I'll go after him. Go on."

Aragorn stood and walked off towards the limited sleeping quarters. Elrond had kept some of them clear so the healers could get some rest if they needed it. Some refused to leave the Great Hall, standing up to Elrond with more force than his position usually allowed. It didn't help that many of them were beginning to get sick themselves.

**TBC…**

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	10. From Bad To Worse

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 10 – From Bad To Worse**

As soon as he was out of sight of Elrond and Aragorn, Legolas half ran, half stumbled down the corridors to where his father was sleeping soundly. He practically threw himself into the healing room and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against the door for a moment unable to catch his breath properly. Upon closing his eyes, the faces of the numerous dead flashed before him, their faces mangled and twisted in pain. He opened his eyes quickly and looked over at Thranduil and for a moment saw him not how he was – sleeping peacefully – but as one of the agonised dying, reaching out to him, grabbing at his hands and clothes.

The sight pushed Legolas over the edge. Feeling worse than he ever remembered he stumbled towards the bathroom and made it to the basin just in time before he brought up what little food he had eaten for lunch. A short, sharp knock at the door made him look up and he saw Elrond standing at the bathroom door, concern creasing his ageless features. For a brief moment though, Legolas saw him as yet another corpse, burned beyond recognition having crawled from one of the funeral pyres still smouldering outside. The thing softly spoke his name before turning back into normal Elrond. Legolas turned and vomited again, leaning heavily against the sink for support when his legs started to feel weak and the room started to spin dizzyingly.

Within seconds Elrond was at his friend's side. He placed a comforting hand on his back and was surprised to find him trembling dreadfully. He reached over and tucked Legolas' long blonde hair behind his ears, pulling it out of the way. Tears were running down the young prince's face and when he wasn't being sick he was sobbing pitifully. Elrond said nothing though, leaving Legolas alone but keeping a comforting hand on his back and rubbing reassuring circles in an attempt to calm him down. His other hand was placed on Legolas' arm, which was almost locked against the basin, as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.

When it looked like Legolas was finished Elrond reached for a towel and handed it to the prince. Legolas wiped his mouth whilst Elrond fetched a glass of water from the next room. He handed it to the prince who accepted it with shaking hands and took a long, slow sip. He then placed it aside and leaned back over the sink when he felt bile rising to the back of his throat again. Elrond saw this and replaced his hand on Legolas' back to let him know he was still with him.

"It's alright," he whispered kindly.

Almost as if on cue, Legolas vomited again, although he didn't know how there could be anything left inside of him. Elrond stayed right next to him, rubbing his back gently and murmuring reassurances.

He stopped and looked up when there was a gentle tap on the door and a healer from the Great Hall entered obviously searching for his Prince.

"Just give us a moment, please," Elrond said quietly so it didn't upset Legolas any further. He knew the proud young prince wouldn't want a lot of people around. The healer looked understandingly at Elrond, sadly at his prince and left the room. Apparently, Legolas hadn't even noticed the healer because he was still leant over the sink, trying to fight the nausea that shot through his stomach.

"Just let your body do what it needs to," Elrond reassured when he noticed Legolas fighting desperately for control.

Someone else entered the room a few minutes later, only this time it wasn't a servant but Gandalf. The Wizard opened his mouth to speak when he saw the state Legolas was in. He leaned against his staff against the wall and walked silently into the bathroom. Elrond turned back to Legolas, who was still retching into the basin, unable to stop no matter how hard he tried to control it. Each time he did, faces of the agonised dying flashed before his eyes. The images turned his stomach and he just couldn't stop what was happening to him. He didn't even notice Gandalf's entrance.

The Wizard looked sympathetically at Legolas before turning and leaving the room, knowing Legolas would not want an audience to witness his moment of weakness. Gandalf walked into the healing room where Thranduil remained sleeping soundly, undisturbed by his son's pitiful state in the next room. Gandalf quickly and efficiently prepared some ginger tea to settle Legolas' stomach and returned to the bathroom. His heart went out to the young, inexperienced Prince of Mirkwood. He had been strong for his people all day and it had to be hard on him. It was easy to forget that he had also lost a brother and countless friends – all in a matter of days.

Gandalf handed the mug of steaming tea to Elrond who accepted it with a small smile of thanks.

"Legolas, here drink this. It will help," the healer said. Legolas looked up, grabbed the towel and took the mug shakily from Elrond. He drank it slowly, feeling the effects of the warm, soothing liquid on his stomach almost immediately. He handed the mug back to Elrond once he had finished.

Legolas obviously didn't entirely trust the tea would work as he stayed bent over the sink, gagging occasionally but managing to keep the tea down. Elrond just waited patiently and kept his hand on Legolas' back for reassurance. The prince still had one arm locked on the sink so tightly that his knuckles were white, whilst the other was curled across his stomach, apparently hoping it would further ease the horrible feeling.

Eventually, when he was certain he wasn't going to be sick again, Legolas stood up straight, somewhat gingerly. He removed his hand from the sink and sunk slowly to the ground as though he had also purged every last ounce of energy in his body. Elrond went down with him, keeping his hand on Legolas' arm just in case. When he was sitting on the floor, Legolas leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes in exhaustion. When the faces of the dead again flashed before him he quickly opened them. Looking around he saw Elrond sat next to him and Gandalf sitting silently in the chair in the corner, just in case he was needed.

Legolas smiled faintly, more to reassure the other two than because there was anything at all to smile about. He went to push himself up. Elrond, ever vigilant, kept his hand on Legolas' arm so when the bathroom began to swim before the prince's eyes the elder Elf was there to guide him gently back down to the ground.

"Just give yourself a minute," Elrond calmly instructed. Legolas nodded, pleased that Elrond was keeping nice and clinical about the situation. He needed that kind of authoritative, calm reassurance and instruction right then. He allowed himself to get his bearings before swiping a hand across his hot, sweat coated forehead, trying desperately to get a grip on himself. He noticed his hand shaking ever so slightly and again the room began to waver. He closed his eyes in an attempt to orient himself but was assailed by the horrific images and he managed to bring the towel to his mouth just as he gagged again.

After he had composed himself he took the towel away and reached for the water, which Elrond wordlessly handed to him.

"Slowly," the healer advised and Legolas took a long sip. He placed the glass on the floor and took a minute to calm himself down. Elrond rubbed his arm in gentle reassurance.

"I'm sorry," Legolas finally said, a slight but very fake laugh rippling through his hoarse voice.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Elrond smiled. Of course, the healer was used to such things – he had probably seen far worse in his long career.

Gandalf, who up until this point had been silent, finally spoke. "You of all people have no need to apologise after today."

"I don't know what's wrong with me." That of course was a complete lie. He and everyone else in the room knew exactly what was wrong but thankfully no one spoke the words, for which Legolas was very grateful.

"It has been a very difficult day," Elrond said diplomatically and Legolas merely nodded.

"I have just never seen so many…" His voice trailed off but both Elrond and Gandalf knew what he was trying to say.

"It's not your fault," Elrond reassured. "This has been enough to shock anyone. People often react this way to death, especially in such large quantities." Again Legolas merely nodded, too tired and too drained to do anything else.

"How is Ada?" he asked once he had recovered himself slightly. Looking out into the bedroom, Legolas saw his father lying in bed, looking nothing like the strong king he had once been. Right then he wanted nothing more than for Thranduil to stand up, smile and sort everything out himself, relieving Legolas of the burden of a kingdom in crisis, a kingdom he was never meant to rule. Rule of Mirkwood had always been Thranduil or Rumil's duty and Legolas had never really expected to get a look in.

However, right then Legolas realised that the sole responsibility of the Mirkwood Realm and every one of its citizens was his and his alone. He was their prince, their leader and they were all looking to him to make this right and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

He felt panic rising inside him again, and his stomach started churning at the mere thought of the weight of the responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders.

Elrond seemed to notice this and intervened. "Just relax, Legolas. It's alright."

"So many people, Elrond…What am I supposed to do?" Expecting an answer and getting none, Legolas turned to the Imladrian Lord. "Elrond?"

"I don't know, mellon nin, but we'll find a way."

Legolas' eyes took on a look of panic and he dashed to his feet and reached the sink just in time. Elrond had to move fast to support him. Legolas wasn't so much vomiting as sobbing into the sink now as the terrible images of the dead continued to relentlessly bombard him.

"Just breathe. Nice and slowly," Elrond's voice sounded above his laboured breathing. Legolas hated appearing like this in front of Elrond and Gandalf, he was supposed to be strong, in control, but he just couldn't stop himself, no matter how hard he tried.

"Elrond," he sobbed, not knowing who else to turn to. Elrond lifted his hand to Legolas' damp cheek and turned him so they could look into each others eyes.

Right then, Elrond saw it – all the pain, fear and panic. It was bared to him in one heart-breaking look. "We'll get through this together," Elrond said calmly, hoping it was enough to calm Legolas down.

Legolas heard such confidence in Elrond's voice that some of the fear lifted from him as well as some of the burden. He should have known that Elrond would help. The older Elf was far wiser in such matters than the young, inexperienced prince.

"It's alright," Elrond whispered, pulling the younger Elf towards him and allowing Legolas to wrap his arms tightly around him. Legolas clung to him like a frightened child clings to a parent. Legolas' lithe form shook with restrained sobs and Elrond held him tighter. "Shhh," he soothed gently, wanting nothing more than to offer help to the young prince he had become so fond of over the past years. Legolas leaned against Elrond, as much for support as for comfort and Elrond could feel the prince begin to sink to the floor, as though the weight of his pain was too much to bear so he sank down with him until they were both kneeling on the floor, Elrond not loosening his grip. "Mithrandir, blanket," Elrond instructed simply.

Gandalf nodded and instantly went to fetch a blanket from the next room. He returned seconds later and draped it over Legolas' shaking shoulders. The prince had stopped crying by now and was just lying in Elrond's arms and the Elven Lord was happy to oblige. Legolas had spent many years in Imladris and he and Elrond had become firm friends. It was uncharacteristic of Legolas to allow – let alone initiate – such close contact. Usually, he was so emotionally withdrawn, getting physically close to no one. Elrond had certainly never been a part of those rare solitary moments when the prince had let his guard down. The fact that the one person Legolas would turn to was his father, who was now incapable of doing any comforting himself, made this even worse. In his time of need, and with no one else to turn to, Elrond was the closest thing to a father figure he had and it was an honour for the older Elf.

"We'll find a way. There's always a way," Gandalf took that moment to impart upon the situation and Elrond felt Legolas nod very slightly against his shoulder.

At that moment, a knock came from the door and all three looked up to find the four Hobbits standing nervously in the doorway.

"Someone said you would be in here," Pippin said by way of explanation.

"Sorry for interrupting," Sam apologised for all of them. His eyes were fixed on the shaken, dishevelled, distraught Legolas sitting on the floor, with Elrond holding onto his arms for support. None of them had ever seen the usually perfect Elf like that before and it both concerned and disturbed them.

Legolas smiled genuinely, shakily wiping the tears from his cheeks. "It's alright, Sam. What is it?"

"We were thinking…" Merry began.

"_I _was thinking," Pippin interrupted.

"It was actually _my_ idea," Sam cut in at that point.

"Actually it was mine," Pippin argued.

"What do you want?" Gandalf's voice boomed, stopping their argument, knowing this was the last thing Legolas needed right then.

"Well, Legolas, I…_we_ were thinking that we could go to the kitchens and maybe prepare some food for the healers and patients," Frodo answered, ever the voice of reason. "It's about the only thing we can do and we all feel a little useless right now."

"That is a very good idea, whoever thought of it," Elrond said whilst Legolas merely nodded.

"You see, we don't want to sit around doing nothing anymore," Pippin began.

And Merry finished, "We want to do something useful."

"Of course," Legolas said, understanding exactly how they were feeling. "Mirkwood's kitchens are at your disposal. Make it simple though. No grand feasts."

"Uh-huh," Sam mumbled as though receiving vital instructions from the prince.

"And thank you for all you have done today," Legolas said sincerely. "After you're done ask someone to show you to your rooms. You'll find everything you need in them."

Typical Legolas, Elrond thought. Always thinking of others before himself. The Hobbits left silently, already discussing what they should cook.

"You need to get some rest now, Legolas," Elrond said as the younger Elf leaned back against him, his head resting wearily against Elrond's shoulder. "A few hours sleep will do you the world of good." He felt Legolas gently shake his head against his shoulder. "Yes. Come on, mellon nin, you're absolutely exhausted. You need to get some sleep, hmmm?"

Legolas considered this for a moment then nodded against Elrond. They disentangled and Legolas stood up slowly and a little shakily. Elrond was right, he was exhausted but he didn't know how he could possibly sleep with images of dead people running through his mind.

"Come on," Elrond said gently, leading him back into the bedroom. Instead of going to the door though, Legolas went and laid down next to his father. Elrond smiled and, as Gandalf left, reached up to one of the cupboards, bringing out a fresh towel and a basin and placed them on the table next to Legolas. "Just in case," Elrond smiled gently. Elrond gently stroked Legolas hair back and whispered, "Sleep well, mellon nin." Legolas' eyes fluttered closed and within minutes he was in a deep sleep. Elrond silently left, closing the door gently behind him.

Outside, Gandalf was waiting for him. "He's getting sick, isn't he?" Elrond merely nodded, knowing Gandalf knew the answer already. "What should we do?"

"Nothing," the Elf said simply. "Mirkwood needs him. They have nothing else."

"What do we do in the meantime?"

"Leave him to rest as long as possible. I'll keep a close eye on him." Gandalf nodded. "For now we keep this quiet. The people don't need another thing to worry about and Legolas wouldn't want anyone else to know."

No matter how pathetic it was they had a plan, whether they could keep it up was another matter entirely.

TBC…

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_**Translations:**_

_**Ada – **__Dad_

_**Mellon nin – **__My friend_


	11. Unexpected Casualties

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**A/N: Ok, I wasn't going to update today as I have been sick most of the week but I dragged myself out of bed to get my laptop and here I am. I felt I couldn't let you all down, so here's chapter 11 for you. Hope you enjoy it and thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far.**

**Chapter 11 ~ Unexpected Casualties**

Returning to the make-shift healing hall, Elrond was pleased to see that many of the patients had fallen into sleep despite their dreadful predicament. He looked over to one of the healers who was searching through a box of healing supplies, apparently displeased at the lack of resources. After getting a brief report from the healer about their state of supplies, Elrond slowly walked through the sick again. People were still being brought in and the hall was starting to get crowded again.

At least it was quieter now night had fallen. Although there were still ripples of panic and fear running through the patients there was no more screaming, just a gentle undertone of moans and coughs. It was almost eerie. Elrond decided he preferred the screaming.

"Lord Elrond," a healer approached. "For you, sir, compliments of the Hobbit chefs." A slight smile graced his features, which were covered in a fine sheen of sweat from fever. Elrond took the mug of herbal tea the healer offered and sipped at it gratefully, hoping it would help clear his tired mind.

"Thank you," he smiled, as he felt warmth seeping back into him. The healer just nodded with a thin smile. Elrond had seen him around the hall all day. He had had no rest since the first patients had come in and his exhaustion clearly showed on his face. "You should go and get some rest whilst it is reasonably quiet," Elrond suggested in hushed tones so he didn't disturb any of the sleeping patients.

The healer just smiled thinly. "Thank you for your concern, my Lord but I want to stay." Elrond was obviously waiting for him to elaborate on his desire to remain amidst the horrors so he continued, "My wife. She has not come in yet. I want to be here just in case."

Elrond nodded thoughtfully then motioned for the healer to follow him over to the triage section of the Great Hall, reserved for the walking wounded and the healer obediently followed. Placing his mug on the table, Elrond gestured for the healer to sit and actually pushed him down into the seat when he went to protest. He then rummaged through the supplies until he found a long bandage.

"That's not necessary, my Lord. I am fine," the healer protested but Elrond silently took the healer's hand in his own and began to place a bandage over the angry-looking blister that had formed as part of the disease. The stubborn healer flinched and hissed as the cool cloth touched the sensitive wound and he looked up into the ancient Lord's eyes, which were filled with anguish at the situation he found himself in.

Once Elrond had finished, the healer flexed his fingers carefully before looking at his Lord. "Thank you," he muttered quietly.

"Take it easy," Elrond instructed before picking up his tea and walked over to another servant who was trying to clean the blood off the stone floor. It was a grim image. This once great kingdom was being ravaged by something so deadly that it could potentially destroy the great realm completely. The Mirkwood Elves had lived in the shadow of Sauron's darkness for many long, painful years. The Dark Lord had finally been vanquished, evil was washing away from the world and then this happens. Elrond hated the thought that Mirkwood would soon become a kingdom filled with nothing but ghosts.

**

"My Lord," a healer entered Elrond's chambers where he had been resting for only a few hours. "My Lord, forgive me but you are needed in the Great Hall."

"What is it?" Elrond asked sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his tired face.

"It is one of the Hobbits, Lord Elrond…" He didn't even get a chance to finish before Elrond threw the sheets back and was out the door and running towards the Great Hall.

Frodo was lying unconscious on the floor, surrounded by the other three Hobbits and some very concerned healers. Elrond pushed them all out of the way and knelt down next to Frodo. He placed a hand on the Hobbit's forehead to find he had a high fever; just like the other sufferers.

"Frodo, can you hear me?" Elrond asked loudly but he got no response. The Halfling was out cold. "How long has he been like this?"

"He was fine a moment ago, and then he said he was feeling a little tired and he just fell over," Sam answered quickly, tears blurring his vision. "Is he going to be alright, Master Elrond?"

"I don't know yet, Sam. Let's get him to a more private room. We'll use Legolas' chambers. He's not using them at the moment and I'm sure he won't mind."

Carefully picking Frodo up, Elrond carried him out of the hall, allowing only one other healer to join him and ignoring the Hobbit's protests at being left behind.

When they reached the prince's rooms, Elrond laid the limp Hobbit down on the large four-poster bed, which made him look even smaller. The room, although being well furnished, was remarkably plain compared to Thranduil's own personal quarters anyway. Even Rumil's were better than this, not that decoration mattered that much. The only rooms in Mirkwood that contained en-suite bathrooms were the royal quarters and Elrond knew they were the best for healing purposes, seeing as every other place in the palace was being used as emergency healing rooms.

Elrond immediately began his examination of Frodo, swiftly undressing him. He was disheartened when he saw the bruise-like marks on his body – a sure sign of the disease that was afflicting the Elves of Mirkwood. Elrond sighed in resignation. He had been hoping there was another explanation but apparently the disease affected Hobbits as well.

"Go to Thranduil's healing room and ask Prince Legolas to come here immediately, please," Elrond instructed his healing assistant. "And do it quietly, don't make a fuss." The healer nodded her understanding and left to carry out her errand, pleased to at least be doing something useful.

Elrond was loath to wake the young prince but this was a development he would want to be aware of.

**

The healer knocked gently on the door to Thranduil's private healing room and, upon receiving no answer, stepped cautiously inside. What she saw stopped her in her tracks and made her heart melt in sympathy. Legolas was fast asleep next to his father with his arm wrapped gently around the king and his face buried into his neck. Such displays of public affection between father and son were rare in Mirkwood; a privilege few members of staff got to see.

The healer paused for only a second, knowing she had to complete her grave task. She cautiously approached the bed. Being a trainee healer she was not usually so close to the royals, although she had always admired them from afar, especially the two handsome princes.

Gently, she placed a slightly shaking, tentative hand on Legolas' shoulder. He was instantly awake and alert, although immediately looked over to the king, apparently thinking his father was the one to disturb his well earned, peaceful sleep. The healer suddenly felt guilty for waking her prince and startling him so she said nothing whilst Legolas reassured himself that it was not his father who had woken him and that the king was no worse off than when he had last seen him. Indeed, the king's condition had not changed. Realising that something else must have disturbed him Legolas turned around to face a terrified looking healer.

"What is it?" he asked croakily, his throat still sore and hoarse from his earlier sickness.

"Forgive me for waking you, Your Highness but the Hobbit…Elrond sent me to wake you. Something in the Great Hall…"

"Wait. Slow down. All I got from that was that Elrond's a Hobbit and in the Great Hall." She smiled her thanks for his weak joke making her feel better. "Now say it again slowly."

Taking a deep breath, she started again. "The Hobbit, Frodo, collapsed in the Great Hall and Lord Elrond sent me to bring you to him. It's urgent, Your Highness."

"That made a bit more sense," Legolas mumbled, drawing another small smile from the healer. Legolas dragged himself out of bed, glancing once again at his sleeping father.

He felt worse than he did before. His whole body was aching and cold and he felt like he hadn't slept at all. On his way out he grabbed a thick robe from the wardrobe and swung it over his shoulders before closing the door quietly behind him.

**

When he and the healer walked in to Legolas' own private quarters, Elrond was still looking over Frodo, examining the bruises on his body with steady hands. He looked up when Legolas entered. Concentration immediately turned to sympathy when he saw Legolas' face; it was pale and tired and Elrond instantly regretted waking him.

"Frodo?" Legolas asked, coming closer to the bed. "What happened?"

"He just collapsed. Legolas, he's showing all the symptoms," Elrond explained, pulling the blanket back over the unconscious Hobbit.

"I thought you said this only affected Elves."

"We don't really know anything about this disease."

"Then it also attacks other races," Legolas sighed, looking down at Frodo with sad eyes.

"I'm not so sure it does. Look at this." Elrond pulled aside the blankets to expose Frodo's old wound; the stab wound of the Morgul blade he had received at Weathertop during the Quest of the Ring. Thanks to Elrond's remarkable healing skills the wound had been healed. Previously, it had just been a white scar but now it was red and raw as though it were infected.

"I noticed it during my examination. The healers say that none of the other four Hobbits are suffering any symptoms at all. I think that somehow this wound allowed entry to the disease."

"I don't understand. The disease entered through an already healed wound?" Legolas asked, watching Elrond closely.

"These bruises," Elrond pointed, "suggest that the disease affects the blood. I think that somehow the disease was first transferred by blood coming into contact with blood," Elrond explained.

"That's how it passed to Frodo?"

Elrond nodded. "Frodo was in the Great Hall handing out food. I am sure that he, at some point, came into contact with one of the patients."

"So the Hobbits aren't susceptible?"

"No."

"Thank the Valar," Legolas sighed. "So this disease got into him through the blood?"

"Yes. I think it started out that way, maybe in the village. Then something happened; the disease mutated, it evolved and became able to transfer through the air. That's how it spread so quickly. First in the village, then Rumil came here bearing the disease and the diseased child. By this time it was airborne and spread throughout Mirkwood. Its evolution sped up at a phenomenal rate."

Legolas took a moment to process this. "So, this thing could only be transferred through blood and then it mutated and became airborne?"

"Exactly. It explains everything," Elrond said, the slightest hint of triumph in his voice.

"Are you any closer to finding a cure?" Legolas asked.

"No, but this is a major breakthrough. Now I know how it transfers I'll be able to do some experiments and hopefully find a cure."

"Good. Do you think he'll be alright?" Legolas asked, looking down at Frodo.

Elrond's face fell. "I don't know. I'll work on finding that cure."

"Right. I'll inform Aragorn and the other healers. And I'll isolate the other Hobbits just in case."

Elrond nodded. "That's a good idea. Better to be safe than sorry." Legolas nodded distractedly. "I'll go and figure out how to stop this thing."

"Thank you Elrond."

"But first I am going to look you over and check on your father."

"I'm fine, Elrond but you should check on Ada," Legolas said.

"I insist." Legolas merely nodded gently. "Good. Stay here and come and find me if his condition changes," Elrond instructed the healer.

**

Elrond gently looked over Legolas, who was sat in his father's chair behind the king's desk in the study. Almost every other room in the palace was being used for patients – Frodo was in Legolas' private chambers and Thranduil was in the royal healing halls.

Legolas sat completely passive and silent as Elrond examined him, already knowing what the outcome would be. He felt as bad as he had done before. Elrond, of course, knew this. His earlier reaction to the current crisis had said it all and the Lord of Imladris had seen enough of this sickness to know the signs.

The healer sighed as he leaned back after looking over Legolas' bruises. So far they hadn't spread too far but the signs were all there. The disease was progressing slowly in the prince but then it seemed to work differently in every patient. Thranduil had gotten sick and deteriorated very quickly yet some people were not even showing signs yet, Elrond included. Of course, he had no proof that it even affected everyone. So far Elrond had absolutely no symptoms and there were healers who had had constant exposure to the sick patients and yet remained unaffected.

"Well?" Legolas asked, breaking Elrond's dark thoughts.

"I think you already know the answer so I'm not going to lie to you."

"How far along is it?" Legolas asked calmly, looking down at the floor with sad eyes.

"It seems to be in its earliest stages. Besides the obvious symptoms you seem to be holding up remarkably well."

"That's some good news at least," the prince smiled thinly.

"Legolas…"

"I know, Elrond," the prince sighed.

"You should try and take things easy. Get plenty of rest." Elrond knew this was a pointless instruction. Legolas wasn't about to sit back and watch his people suffer alone.

"Elrond, please don't mention this to anyone. They need me to…"

"Of course. Although my advice still stands. They need you to be visible but they need you to be alive even more."

"Elrond, this thing is going to do the same thing to me whether I'm standing or lying down so I may as well do something useful in the meantime. I have never asked my people to do anything I myself am unwilling to do, and that's not going to change."

Elrond was silent for a moment as Legolas pulled on his tunic. Every muscle in his body ached and he could not stop the slight trembling that came with the fever that assailed his body.

"Alright, I should go and check on your father."

"Thank you. I will be in the Great Hall if you need me."

"Right. Legolas, let me know if you begin to feel worse or you develop any new symptoms."

Legolas merely nodded before standing slowly and leaving the room. Elrond looked at the door for a moment, gently shaking his head at the young prince's stubbornness; so much like his father.

**TBC…**

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**Translations:**

**Ada - **Dad


	12. The People's Prince

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Mirkwood's Plague**

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and I hope you all like chapter 12.**

**Chapter 12 ~ The People's Prince**

Legolas knelt down next to another patient; this person, like so many of the others in the Great Hall was in deep sleep or unconscious – it was difficult to tell. Some patients Legolas had visited had been reasonably alert, asking their prince various questions about their current situation and the running of the kingdom. They seemed to cheer at the appearance of Legolas and luckily no one noticed his own progressing illness, too absorbed in their own suffering to notice anyone else's.

It was the sick Elflings that had upset Legolas the most during his rounds. He had spent almost an hour comforting one child who had lost both his parents to the disease. Helplessness could not properly describe how he had felt holding that sobbing child to his chest. The terrified Elfling had clung to him as though he were his only anchor to this world. Legolas could do nothing but wrap his arms around the Elfling and offer (somewhat false) reassurances. However, the distraught child was unaware of the prince's deception, just happy to know that there was one person who would look after him, that the weight of responsibility fell on some else's shoulders rather than his own small ones. This was a task that frightened Legolas but one that he knew he had no choice but to accept. Usually, this would be Thranduil's task but in the absence of his father, Legolas would do it even though it was a difficult – and seemingly impossible - undertaking.

Luckily, so far no one had questioned the absence of the King, for which Legolas was supremely grateful. Fear for his father's health constantly gnawed at him and he didn't feel like telling these people that their king was in the same helpless state as them; that was the last thing they needed. It was hard enough for them that so many people were unwell. They needed to believe someone was in charge and although Legolas was the Prince he knew they all still preferred Thranduil. They trusted their king, trusted that he was quietly sorting all this out behind the scenes as he always did.

Elrond had dropped by the hall earlier to tell Legolas that Thranduil's condition was unchanged and that for now he remained resting peacefully. The Lord of Imladris had then locked himself away in his healing room and resumed his search for a cure for the disease. He had left an experienced healer with Frodo and another one with Thranduil just in case their condition changed during his absence. He had also told Aragorn of the prince's own illness, knowing it would be wise to have someone looking out for signs of trouble when he himself could not be there.

Aragorn had been saddened at the news of his friend's illness but hardly surprised. There was no reason Legolas in particular should be immune when half his kingdom, not to mention his own family, had been taken ill. However, Aragorn had quickly recovered from his fear, resolving to keep a close eye on the Prince of Mirkwood, knowing he would be in the Great Hall with his people for as long as he was needed.

Aragorn's assumption had been proven correct; Legolas remained tending the sick and dying all night long without one single break. In fact, it was only when his face came into contact with a bright shaft of sunlight from the tall windows that Legolas even thought about the time. He had spent all night uttering false reassurances to dying people and watching Elves he had known all his life – his friends, his teachers, even his enemies – in pain, every one of them holding on to the last shreds of life for their prince and king. He had worked hard with the healers although he had little healing knowledge himself. His role in the hall was purely window dressing, showing people that he was not afraid and that there was still hope that they could beat this terrible affliction. He had also continued discreetly removing bodies, still pretending they were alive so as not to frighten the still living patients. The worst part was tying in vain to comfort their terrified relatives, patients themselves, that their family members were fine. In essence: lying to them.

In fact, he had been so completely immersed in their pain that he had almost forgotten about his own predicament.

Legolas slowly wandered over to the triage section where Aragorn had just finished bandaging a healer's arm. He simply smiled gently at Legolas, not knowing quite what to say to his best friend. "Are you alright?" he settled for after a moment.

Legolas merely nodded dejectedly, as though he wasn't really hearing what Aragorn was saying before snapping from his thoughts and smiling back at the concerned man before him.

"I…" Legolas stopped, thinking carefully about what to say next. "I don't know what to do," he continued softly, seemingly surprised at his own words. He had meant to say 'I'm fine' just like always but it hadn't come out right.

Aragorn stared into his friend's saddened eyes for a second before gently guiding him to sit on the chair patients had been receiving treatment on all night. Pulling up another chair, Aragorn sat opposite the Elf.

"I don't think we can do any more than we're already doing," he finally answered softly, watching Legolas' face carefully for a reaction. "You're doing fine."

"It just doesn't seem like enough," Legolas sighed, his eyes sweeping around the vast hall before him.

"I know. But it's all we can do for now. Elrond will find a cure. I know he will."

"And if he doesn't?" Legolas asked the question Aragorn had been dreading hearing.

"He will," Aragorn said firmly, trying to convince himself as much as his friend.

Legolas nodded carefully, his face showing him to be deep in thought. "I don't know what to do, Aragorn. I can't…I can't watch my people dying any more. I grew up with them. They're my teachers, my subjects and my friends. I can't watch my _friends_ dying anymore. I just can't." Legolas' voice grew slightly frantic but he fought to keep it low and quiet, not wanting to alert the patients or healers of what he was saying, that his panic was starting to get the better of him. He looked deep into Aragorn's eyes for a moment before leaning forward and putting his head wearily in his hands.

"You can't give up, Legolas. Please don't give up," Aragorn said softly, leaning forward and placing soothing hands on Legolas' own only to find them trembling.

At the contact Legolas looked up and Aragorn was startled to see tears running down his fair face. He shook his head softly in despair. He wiped the tears away on his sleeve almost violently, seemingly angry and ashamed at his – perfectly understandable - reaction. Aragorn caught his shaking hands and squeezed them tightly, hoping to offer some comfort to his best friend. Legolas squeezed back, pleased that he had someone with him. He replaced his head in his hands, allowing Aragorn to keep his contact. He spent several minutes trying to stop the tears that fell silently. Aragorn moved off the chair and knelt down in front of him, blocking him from view of the patients and healers in the hall, knowing Legolas needed a moment to compose himself and he wouldn't want a lot of people watching that.

"If anyone can find a cure, it's Elrond," Aragorn reassured. "It will be alright."

Legolas nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, sitting up straight and wiping his eyes again.

"It's alright," Aragorn reassured with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm just so tired," he whispered despairingly avoiding the King's eyes.

"I know you are. I know." Aragorn rubbed his hand up and down Legolas' arms.

Slowly, Legolas stood up and Aragorn followed suit. Legolas looked around at his people with tired eyes. "I think I might go and lie down for a while if you don't mind."

Aragorn nodded. "Of course not. I think that's an excellent idea. Go and get some sleep."

"Thank you," Legolas whispered, walking shakily away from Aragorn out the large double doors. The man watched him go then went out of the other door to find Elrond. He needed an update on Legolas' condition.

**

One by one people were getting sick and he could do nothing; that was the thought that ran through Legolas' mind almost continuously. In fact, he was so absorbed in this single thought that he failed to see the bearded Dwarf in his path until a pair of strong, rough hands stopped him in his tracks.

"Whoa there, Elf. Watch where you're going," Gimli joked, looking up at the Elf. He was utterly shocked and desperately saddened at what he saw. Legolas was pale and shaking very slightly; he looked down with exhausted, half-focused eyes at the Dwarf. There was a look of such utter despair on his face that it made Gimli want to throw his arms around the prince and shelter him from whatever horrors he had experienced in the past hours, to take the terrible pain of grief and despair away. Gimli was well aware of what was happening in Mirkwood even though he had not been allowed to leave his quarters under the prince's order. He knew it was for his own protection but he wanted nothing more than to help the Elf. They had both seen and experienced many horrors during the War of the Ring and Legolas had been fighting in Mirkwood's forest for many hundreds of years before that but Gimli had never seen him look quite so lost.

"Gimli," Legolas said, mild surprise flitting across his painfully tired features. After a slightly confused pause he continued, "I thought you were in your rooms."

"I got restless," Gimli explained vaguely and Legolas just nodded, not seeming at all concerned about his disobedience. "Are you alright, my friend?"

"I…I was…just going to my rooms," Legolas said softly as though he didn't really know where he was or what he was saying.

"I thought the royal chambers were in the other direction." Legolas looked behind him then back at Gimli.

"Right," he said, smiling weakly.

Concerned that the prince would collapse before his exhaustion-addled mind remembered where his room was, he took the Elf's elbow. "Come on, I'll walk with you," Gimli said cautiously, prompting him forwards. Again, Legolas nodded walking silently behind the Dwarf.

When they reached Thranduil's room, Gimli stopped, opening the door for the Elf, who smiled his thanks and looked down at Gimli with sad eyes.

"How are you, my friend?" Legolas asked as though suddenly remembering his royal etiquette, although his voice was soft it was also cold and desolate – he didn't really have the energy to care too much. Gimli got the distinct impression that he was truly concerned but that he also wanted nothing more than to just break down and cry. It was something Gimli had never expected to see from the Elf, who always seemed so cool, calm and emotionless. Now those beautiful blue eyes – usually so clear – were clouded with sorrow, exhaustion and dreadful fear.

After a brief pause, Gimli answered Legolas' question. "I'm fine, Legolas." He wouldn't have burdened Legolas any further even if he hadn't of been fine. Pausing once more, the Dwarf critically looked the Elf up and down. "And you?" He had no idea what answer he would receive.

"I…I don't really know," the prince muttered. Gimli hadn't expected that. "I should go and…" Legolas pointed almost longingly to the room behind him.

Gimli nodded. "I'll light a fire for you. So you don't get cold." Legolas didn't protest as Gimli would have expected but walked into the dark room and quickly lit a candle, afraid that the dark would again reveal the faces of the dead. Gimli also lit a candle then went to the ornate fireplace in the bedroom and began lighting a fire. Unlike Legolas' own room, Thranduil's was richly decorated with expensive furniture everywhere. All the fabrics and carpets were the best on Arda. Everything complemented perfectly and was kept in the very best condition. Thranduil apparently liked only the finest things and Gimli got the impression that few people were ever allowed into these restricted chambers.

Like Legolas' chambers there were several rooms. A bedroom containing numerous cupboards, wardrobes and drawers and an enormous four-poster bed, a bathroom with a private bath, a sitting room with divans, sofas, desks and a huge fireplace complete with comfortable chairs, and finally a study, which contained a desk of the highest quality wood and everything else a king or prince could ever want.

Once the fire was going the room looked remarkably comfortable. It surprised Gimli that it looked so homely. The King was always so cold and unfeeling in public and it was strange to see him associated with such a friendly, inviting room. The most striking feature in the room was a large framed oil painting hanging on the wall above the fireplace. It showed the whole Thranduillion family: Thranduil, a young Legolas, Rumil and Nienna, Legolas' mother. Although it was clearly an official portrait and they were all looking very serious the painting radiated warmth and love.

"It was painted millennia ago," Legolas said appearing from the sitting room and watching Gimli examining the picture. "We had to sit like that for hours. Ada was getting very impatient with the artist."

"You look very happy there," Gimli complimented.

Legolas smiled gently. "It's strange; Ada absolutely hated that painting. For years he hid it away at the back of the gallery. When she died though he took it out and hung it above his fireplace. No one but he was allowed to touch it, not even to clean it."

"It's very beautiful."

"Hmmm. I don't like it," Legolas said dismissively.

"It's real."

"It's nostalgic."

"That's not a good thing?" Gimli asked, standing and keeping his eyes fixed on Legolas.

The Elf shook his head. "No." Gimli watched with confusion as Legolas continued to stare at the painting, his eyes clouded with memories of the past. "Thank you for lighting the fire." Gimli was officially dismissed.

"You are welcome," Gimli said, watching his feet with curious interest. "If you, you know, need anything else…"

"Thank you."

"Well, um, yes. Goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Gimli." The Dwarf walked to the door and hesitated, not knowing whether it was right to leave the Elf alone. Just as he was about to walk out of the door Legolas spoke again. "Gimli, I assume you have heard about Frodo."

"Yes. Yes, I had heard. Will he be alright, do you think?"

"Elrond doesn't know yet but as soon as I know I'll come and find you."

"I would appreciate that," Gimli smiled.

"If you feel at all unwell please tell Elrond at once. I'd feel much better knowing my friends are safe." Legolas' voice was quiet and sad again.

"Don't worry. The slightest twinge and Elrond will know about it," Gimli joked, trying desperately to lighten the mood. It only earned him a weak smile from the prince though. Gimli shuffled his feet nervously before speaking again. "Legolas, I feel utterly useless just sitting around all day whilst you and Aragorn are out there helping and I want to do more. I was thinking maybe I could help out in the Great Hall…or collecting firewood. Anything. I just want to do something useful."

"Gimli…"

"Legolas, please. If I was going to get sick it would have happened already."

"That's not how it works," Legolas answered coolly.

"Then I'll take my chance."

Legolas sighed. "I'm sorry Gimli, but I can't risk it."

Gimli, losing his patience, shouted back, "It's my risk to take."

"No, it's not. I am commander of this realm. Mirkwood is my kingdom."

"But I am not your subject." At this everything fell quiet. "Let me help, please," Gimli whispered.

Legolas laughed humourlessly. "I never could control you, Dwarf." Gimli smiled in affirmation. "Alright, but the slightest sign of…"

"I'll go straight to Elrond."

"Alright. Thank you."

"Get some rest, Elf," he said more kindly before closing the door gently. He listened for a moment before smiling and walking towards the Great Hall to offer his services.

Legolas looked around the large bedroom. It seemed so long ago that he had last been here but it couldn't have been more than two days. Thankfully, it was always kept clean and tidy. Not even a lethal infection could stop the servants doing their jobs in the royal quarters and Legolas was pleased that they hadn't overlooked it this time.

The room remained filled with Thranduil's presence, his scent, his love. This warmed Legolas more than the fire. He walked to the closet and pulled out one of his father's thick cloaks. It was warm so it helped with the chill running through him and it also smelled of Thranduil. Although he wanted to be with his father Legolas knew that the King needed to rest. This was the closest thing he had right then and he needed to be with something familiar even if it was just a cloak. He laid down on the bed, leaving all the candles in the room lit, not wanting to be alone in the dark. He wrapped the cloak more tightly around himself and looked into the roaring fire.

After watching the flames for a while longer, Legolas' gaze travelled to the painting above the fire. Over the years it had almost seemed to fade into the wall and he hardly noticed it anymore. In fact, he hadn't looked at it properly for years. At first, it was too painful to see his mother every day, lifeless and fake after her death. Then, over time, it had merely become another feature of the room; irrelevant and unimportant. He knew that every night, Thranduil said a prayer to it, not just for his dead wife but for the safety and protection of his remaining family. Legolas and everyone else respected this but until this moment the youngest son of Thranduil had never really understood it.

Now, as Legolas looked up at it, in all its dull glory, he began to think about what his father would do in his position. He realised that Thranduil would not be sitting in his bedroom staring at the painting, he would be doing something proactive. But Legolas was just so tired.

It shocked Legolas to think that two people in that painting were now dead. When his mother died the family had been torn apart. Now Rumil was dead and Thranduil was sick. There was no one left to put the family back together. Legolas knew that he didn't have the strength to do it himself. He couldn't keep both his kingdom and his family. Looking into the cold, lifeless eyes of his father's portrait Legolas thought about what he would do on his own.

Throughout his life he had never been alone. When he was really young his mother had always been with him. Then when she had died his father was there. However, when Thranduil had become too busy with running the kingdom without his wife's support, Rumil had been with him. Even in his adulthood, Legolas had never felt as alone as he did right then. In the Fellowship he was rarely alone. He was either with Aragorn or Gimli. But this was different. His friends couldn't help him this time. Mirkwood was his home, his realm and although his friends were with him it meant nothing. No one could take the place of his father, his brother. He loved them like he could never love his friends.

Decision making had never been his strong point; he never had much practice it. This was Thranduil's job.

In that moment, Legolas knew that it was the realm that mattered now, not the king. Royalty was dispensable, it could always be replaced, an entire kingdom was not so easy to replace. Without Mirkwood's people the kingdom was nothing but a patch of trees and abandoned buildings. If the worst should happen to Thranduil there was someone to replace him but without the people Mirkwood was nothing. They also needed to stop the disease completely. If Legolas and Elrond didn't find a cure and everyone died the disease could still spread throughout the other Elven realms until none of the Firstborn were left.

All of this went through Legolas' mind as he drifted into a restless asleep, watching the flames as they flickeringly lit the painting with orange light so the faces of the subjects seemed to move, their lips chasing in silent prayer and their lifeless eyes springing into ghostly existence. Although still cold and harsh they seemed to convey wisdom impossible to achieve in oil and canvas.

**TBC…**

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**Translations:**

**Arda – **Earth

**Ada – **Dad


	13. The Cure?

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 13 ~ The Cure??**

Aragorn was sitting in the Great Hall watching the Elves before him. The situation wasn't getting any better; in fact, it had worsened somewhat when one innocent young guard had noticed that the only people being moved from the Hall were those who were unmoving. He had quickly informed all the other Elves and the panic and despair had spread like wildfire and the place was in uproar. They all looked around with fear now, no longer trusting the healers who were fighting to keep them alive. It had taken Aragorn and Gimli, who had just joined him, nearly three hours to calm the angry, distraught patients down. A more sombre but suspicious mood had now descended on the room. They now all knew what was happening to the corpses of their fallen comrades – a particularly vocal healer had ensured that everyone knew about the funeral pyres. Of course, Aragorn couldn't deny them the truth any more and ended up confirming their fears, adding the assurance that it was necessary to protect the still living.

Gimli came and stood next to Aragorn. The man looked over at the Dwarf to see him chewing his lip nervously.

"Are you alright?" the man asked.

"Just worried," Gimli vaguely answered.

"I know but Elrond is working on it."

"What? No, not about that. Well, of course I'm worried about_ that_ but…I was just thinking about Legolas."

"Oh."

"Is he infected with this thing?"

Aragorn sat in silent thought before answering carefully, "Yes."

Gimli lowered his head sadly. "I thought so. He seemed different when I spoke to him earlier."

"Of course he's different. A lot of these people are his friends and he has to stand by and watch them suffer and die. That's enough to change anyone."

"Hmmm."

Before either of them could speak again, Elrond strode purposefully into the room, looked around and, upon spotting Aragorn and Gimli, rushed towards them. As soon as he entered people began shouting for his help. His knowledge of healing was well known in Mirkwood and they knew that if anyone could help them it was him.

When he was close enough to Aragorn and Gimli he said softly, "I think I'm finally getting somewhere." He handed a vial to Aragorn, who looked at it as though it were some magical substance.

"Is this the cure?" he asked quietly, not wanting to alert the already strained patients.

"Maybe. It's a working progress but it might work or at least alleviate the symptoms. Try it anyway on a couple of infected patients. I'll keep working just in case." Elrond glanced around. "Where is Legolas?"

"He finally went to sleep," Aragorn said quietly, still looking at the liquid in interest.

"That's good. Give someone that and come and find me if it works."

"And if it doesn't?" Aragorn asked.

"Then we try something else. We'll know in an hour or so if it's effective. I'll check on Thranduil then carry on searching."

"Should we tell the Elf?" Gimli asked.

The dark haired Elf thought for a moment before answering, "No. Let him sleep for now. I'll let him know if anything important happens. He doesn't need to be informed if it doesn't work." Elrond turned to leave. "Oh, and Aragorn, do it quietly. No fuss."

"Right. Good luck."

"You too."

**

Elrond sat in the healing room, bending over numerous books and scrolls, glancing up every now and then at the prince, comparing the written symptoms with those of the dead Elf. Every time he thought he was getting close something ruined his theory. He rubbed his hands over his tired eyes, once more glancing briefly at the body. In the gentle light filtering through the windows the prince looked almost serene, like he was merely asleep and could wake any minute. His skin was pale and his eyes glassy but he looked completely normal besides the bruises on his face.

Elrond got up stiffly and walked over to the prince. He gently brushed a stray lock of dark hair from Rumil's face and glanced into unseeing sapphire eyes. The Elven Lord was once more filled with deep sorrow. Truthfully, he hadn't known the older prince all that well, being considerably more friendly with Legolas thanks to his involvement with the Fellowship and his years spent in Imladris. To Elrond, Rumil had resembled his father too much in temperament. He had the same kind of cold, aloof air about him when in public, which Legolas seemed not to have. Although Elrond couldn't say he didn't like Rumil or that Rumil didn't like him, there was only ever respect on either side never any affection. Legolas on the other hand had shown a keen interest in Imladris and in its Lord and he spent many long summers in Rivendell, even more when he met and befriended Elrond's foster son Aragorn.

Elrond forced himself away from Rumil and back at his desk. He sat down tiredly and opened yet another book.

After nearly an hour he came across something. A simple diagram depicting bruises much like Rumil's. He sat up straighter in his chair and studied the drawing closely. It matched Rumil's bruises exactly. He then read and reread the text. Everything else he had read so far had been vague but this was written in perfect detail, outlining every symptom, all of which matched those of Mirkwood's people. Something else caught Elrond's eye, something far more startling. He pushed the chair back as he stood and grabbed the book before rushing out the room, slamming the door behind him.

**

**A/N: Yes, I know it's short but I wanted to end it on a little cliffhanger. Sorry. Please review and tell me what you think.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	14. Thranduil's Last Breath

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Please let me know what you think so far.**

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**Chapter 14 ~ Thranduil's Last Breath**

Legolas was deeply asleep, his shattered body taking the advantage of the rest while it had the chance. Dreams relentlessly haunted him though. Images of the broken and dying bodies of his friends and family rushed through his mind in sickeningly distorted visions of horror. Despite wanting to escape these nightmares, his exhausted body just would not allow it, demanding undisturbed rest.

A light shaking finally stirred him from his restless sleep. When he opened his eyes, sunlight almost blinded him and he wondered why no one had thought to close the shutters against the ridiculously bright light. Squinting, he looked up to see Elrond leaning over him. The Elven Lord smiled as Legolas stiffly sat up, a faint look of confusion on his pale face. He handed him a glass of water and the prince accepted it with shaking hands. When he handed the half-empty glass back to Elrond, Legolas smiled gratefully.

"What is it?" he asked, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes, wondering why on earth the Lord would disturb what little sleep he had been allowed to get.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but I thought you needed to see this."

Legolas sat up straighter at these words, sensing that Elrond had something important to tell him. "Did you find something?" he asked, suddenly very alert.

"Better. I know what the disease is."

Legolas was utterly shocked at this, exclaiming, "What?" It was everything he hoped for: an end to this horror.

"I was checking through your father's medical books, sparse as they are, and I came across a mention of our disease. Every other reference to the disease that affects has been vague and limited but this one is extremely detailed. All the drawings match the marks and symptoms on your brother's body. And the descriptions are all very clear. It's definitely the same illness."

"Are you sure?" Legolas asked in amazement. Elrond said nothing but handed him the big book instead. Legolas quickly scanned his eyes over the page, not understanding a great deal but trusting that Elrond knew what he was talking about. "This is wonderful news, right?"

Elrond's smile dropped and he turned serious. "There are still parts that are very vague."

"Such as? I mean, we can find the cure now."

Elrond sighed heavily, causing Legolas' heart to sink. "Although it details the disease it doesn't mention a specific cure."

"But you can still find one," Legolas said hopefully.

"The text speaks of the disease attacking another Elven community nearly a thousand years ago. Now, the healer writing it begins to speak of a possible remedy but his writings are abruptly cut off. He never actually mentions a specific cure but the fact that he doesn't write anything more suggests…"

"He died before he could finish it. There was no cure," Legolas finished quietly. Elrond nodded slowly. "But you have a reference now, something to go on."

"Yes, and I will keep trying. I have already given one possibility to Aragorn. He and Gimli are currently experimenting on a patient."

"Do you think it will work?"

"I honestly don't know," Elrond sighed. "But I'm going to keep trying anyway."

"Thank you Elrond. I'll go and give Aragorn a hand in the Great Hall."

"Legolas…"

"Don't, Elrond. There has to be a cure. There just has to be. I can't let my people die like this or there won't even be a Mirkwood anymore." Elrond nodded. "How is my father?"

"He was the same last time I checked. I left a healer with him. Should his condition change we'll be informed."

"I'm going to sit with him for a while. If you need me I'll be with him or in the Great Hall. Come get me if you find anything."

As Legolas left, Elrond looked around Thranduil's bedroom. He had never been in here before; few people but the royal family had. The room may have been warm and cosy before but now, with the fire burned out, the room was cold, the light from the windows offering no warmth or comfort at all – in fact, almost making it feel colder. The sheets and pillows on the bed were in disarray from where Legolas had been sleeping restlessly, obviously tossing and turning in his sleep but it was the spots of dark red blood on the crisp white pillow that caught Elrond's eye. He sighed sadly. Watching other people get sick was horrific but seeing Legolas going the same way was even worse.

Elrond and Thranduil were political allies – for the most part – and the same with Rumil but Legolas was more than that. He was a good friend and over the past few days Elrond found himself growing increasingly protective over the young prince. If only he could protect him from this.

**

Legolas entered Thranduil's private healing room as quietly as he could. The king was, as expected, still lying in bed, sheets pulled up to his chest, his hands lying limply on the bed at his sides completely motionless. Legolas closed the door gently behind him and took a tentative step forward. He stopped when someone shouted out from the bathroom.

"You can't be in here. This is the King's private…" She stopped suddenly when she re-entered the room and saw Legolas watching her, a look of vague amusement on his face. "Prince Legolas," she stuttered, performing a nervous, guilty curtsey. "I am so sorry, Your Highness. I didn't know…"

Legolas held up his hand to stop her nervous apology. "It's alright."

The healer smiled apologetically and walked back over to Thranduil. She was carrying a bowl of water and wetted a cloth in it before placing it on Thranduil's hot forehead.

"How is he?" Legolas asked quietly, taking a step closer.

"I'm not really sure, Your Highness. He still has a fever but apart from that I don't know. Lord Elrond came by earlier and said there had been little change."

"I suppose that is good," Legolas murmured softly.

"I suppose," the healer repeated quietly, not quite knowing what else to say.

Staring at his father, Legolas was again swamped with the feeling of being totally alone. Thranduil just looked so…lifeless. A mere shadow of the person he had once been. It was hard to image the king as he had been just a few days before or how he ever would be again.

"Could you please…?" Legolas nodded to the door, indicating that the healer should leave.

She immediately got the hint and replaced the cloth in the bowl, which she had placed on the bedside table. Legolas went and stood next to his father, looking down at the pale face. The healer left silently, shooting Legolas a reassuring smile on her way out. For a moment, Legolas didn't know what to do.

After watching the slow, steady rising and falling of his father's chest for a moment he finally sat down on the chair by the side of the bed. He was completely lost as to what to do or say.

This particular problem was solved a second later when Thranduil stirred and his eyes opened slowly and painfully. For a while the king didn't seem to know where he was but when he turned his head he saw Legolas leaning forwards, waiting patiently for his father to reorient himself.

"Legolas?" Thranduil croaked.

"Here, Ada," Legolas offered Thranduil some water. Gently, he lifted his head off the pillow and carefully trickled water into Thranduil's mouth. Thranduil slowly drained half the glass before pulling back. Legolas replaced the glass and returned his gaze to his father.

Thranduil smiled weakly up at his son. "Legolas."

"It's alright, Ada. Don't…don't try to talk. It's alright." Thranduil smiled gently. "How do you feel?" Legolas laughed at his own question. "Sorry that was a stupid thing to ask."

"More importantly, how are you?" The look of concern that Legolas was so used to seeing from his father returned and it warmed his heart.

"I…I don't really know," Legolas sighed. He reached over and grabbed the cloth from the bowl of water, wrung it out and placed it tenderly on Thranduil's forehead.

"And Mirkwood?"

Legolas laughed humourlessly. "I don't know that either. Things are pretty bad though, Ada."

"This sickness is spreading, right?"

"Yes. Quickly."

"Elrond is helping you though?" Legolas nodded, leaning closer so he was resting his elbows on the bed, wanting to be close to his father. "You don't look well, ion nin," the King said softly, a frown creasing his face and Legolas just nodded again, not even attempting to deny it. "How many?"

"Ada…"

"Legolas, this is still my kingdom. I have the right to know. Now tell me, how many people?"

Legolas sighed, he didn't want to answer that but Thranduil did have the right to know and he had no choice but to tell the truth. "I'm not sure exactly. Last report Aragorn gave me: two hundred dead. More than two thirds of Mirkwood is sick – all in different stages of the disease."

"Two hundred dead?" Thranduil breathed in disbelief. He had been expecting half that number. "And Elrond, he is looking for a cure?"

"Yes. He has been dividing his time between the Great Hall and his makeshift laboratory."

"And he has found nothing?"

"He has been trying a few things. I don't know how successful they have been."

"You have everything under control then?" Thranduil asked tiredly, almost in relief. Legolas said nothing. "Legolas?" Again, nothing. Legolas had placed his head in his hands to hide his face from his father. "Ion nin?" Thranduil reached out to take his son's hand in his own cold, trembling one.

"I…there was nothing else I could do," Legolas almost whimpered, removing his head from his hands.

"What do you mean?" Thranduil questioned gently.

"There were so many of them and Elrond said that we didn't have another option."

"Legolas, slow down. What are you talking about?"

"_Them_. The…the dead people. We had to burn them all, Ada. Elrond said it was the only sure way of stopping the disease from spreading. But they were people I have known all my life, Ada, and I did that…How…?"

"Legolas, you didn't have a choice."

"But they were my friends. There were children as well. Little Elflings. And I keep seeing them. I keep seeing their faces through the flames. They are haunting me, Ada."

"No." Thranduil placed his hand on his son's face, which was wet with tears. "Oh, Legolas."

Legolas leaned forward until his head rested on Thranduil's chest. Thranduil gently stroked his son's golden hair, whispering reassurances.

"I think I'm going mad, Ada," Legolas said, his voice muffled through his tears and his father's nightshirt.

Thranduil laughed sadly. "Oh, my little Greenleaf. You're not going mad. You're just tired and unwell. You need to take better care of yourself, ion nin."

"That's what Elrond keeps saying," Legolas laughed quietly.

"Then you should listen to him. You know that I would have done exactly the same thing had I been in your position. I know you well enough to know that your instincts are usually right. Don't feel guilty about doing what is necessary."

There was a comfortable silence for a long while. Although he knew he should get up and go to the Great Hall as he had promised, Legolas was too just tired and was perfectly content to just lay there, being gently comforted by his father. However, after a while the hand stopped working through his hair but Legolas hardly noticed, he was already on the verge of peaceful sleep. When Thranduil's chest stopped moving though he sat up sharply, freezing for a moment, praying that Thranduil would suddenly take a deep breath. It didn't happen though. Legolas' heart sank, clenching in his chest almost painfully. It took all his will power to keep from falling to the floor. After a moment he finally regained enough sense to run to the door calling for help. Luckily, the healer who had been in the room earlier was waiting outside. It also helped that Elrond happened to be walking down the corridor at that exact moment. Both turned in shock when Legolas burst through the door, yelling for help. Elrond dashed forward at the same time as the healer ran for the door. They both raced over to Thranduil.

"He's not breathing," Legolas cried, his voice utterly distraught. "He's not breathing!"

Elrond frantically searched for a pulse and, finding nothing, started pumping on Thranduil's chest to get his heart going again whilst the healer breathed for the King. Legolas was unable to do anything but look helplessly on as Elrond and the healer worked on his dying father.

"Don't let him die. Please, please don't let him die, Elrond," Legolas begged pitifully, praying to the Valar as much as the Elven Lord. Elrond had never heard him speak with such despair and renewed his efforts to revive the king.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was in fact only a matter of minutes, Elrond felt a weak, thready pulse. He released the breath he had been holding at the same time as Thranduil drew in a shuddering breath. The Elven Lord turned to Legolas and said simply, "He's breathing."

"Thank the Valar," Legolas breathed out, relief flooding through him. The healer in the room walked over and wordlessly guided Legolas to sit down in the chair. He truly did look like he was about to fall over or pass out any second. Tears streamed down his face and his whole body slumped. "Thank you. Thank you." Elrond placed a gentle hand on the prince's trembling shoulder.

**To Be Continued…**

**Ha, ha, you didn't honestly think I'd kill Thranduil, did you? Well, not yet anyway…Please review.**

**

_**Translations:**_

_**Ada – **_Dad

_**Ion nin – **_My son


	15. The Prince's Relief

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I really appreciate it. Okay, here we go, chapter 15. **

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**Chapter 15 ~ The Prince's Relief**

"Keep an eye on him, let me know if there's any change," Elrond whispered to the healer. She nodded then looked over at Legolas, who was perched on the edge of his chair beside his father's bed. He was gripping Thranduil's hand so tightly that if the king had been awake he would have been complaining that it hurt.

"What about Prince Legolas?" the healer whispered back, looking over at her prince who now had his head bowed as if in prayer.

"Let him stay here with his father. Make sure he gets some rest and watch him. I'll be in Rumil's chamber if you need me. Let me know if there's any change…in either of them."

The healer turned back to Legolas once Elrond had closed the door. The prince was still sitting in the chair clutching his father's hand. He was pale and trembling, although whether it was shock or illness the healer couldn't determine. Standing there she didn't know what to do next. The events of the past few days had been unpredictable at best and Legolas, who had been the face of the royal family, had always been the rock to which the people clung. Until this moment the healer had never really thought about the way the kingdom was run. The royal family simply kept everything ticking over. That was their job, their right, their destiny. Before now, the royals, Legolas included, had been distant, something to be watched, admired and respected from afar but never touched. Of course, she knew that Mirkwood only kept running smoothly thanks to the combined efforts of all of its people and their professions but King Thranduil, Prince Rumil and Prince Legolas were the true rulers and they were the reason Mirkwood had survived over the years of war and now flourished in times of peace. At the moment though, Legolas was just another one of the ordinary public; no longer untouchable or unapproachable. Disaster made everything equal.

"Your Highness," she wasn't quite ready to ignore protocol, including titles. Legolas raised his head but didn't turn around at the voice. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" Sympathy clouded her voice.

Legolas laughed gently. "Can you work miracles?"

"I haven't quite gotten to that part in my training yet, sir."

Again Legolas laughed hollowly. He turned around and she was unsurprised by the sadness she saw there. "No, unfortunately no one has." His voice was weak and tired and dejected. "You should get back to the main hall. You are needed there more than here."

"Lord Elrond said I should tend to you and King Thranduil."

"Do you usually take orders from Lord Elrond over your prince?"

"Right now I take orders from whoever deigns to give them."

"Desperate times, eh?" Legolas sighed. The healer nodded.

"Is there anything you need, my Lord?" the healer repeated and Legolas shook his head once more so the healer walked around to the other side of the bed and began rearranging the bed sheets, making sure the king was comfortable. "Would you like a better chair, Prince Legolas?" she asked when she had finished.

"You are very attentive," Legolas smiled, turning shocking blue eyes to the woman.

"It's my job."

"Then a better chair would be great."

The healer nodded and immediately left in search of a more comfortable seat for her Lord. Legolas was only alone for a few moments before a gentle knock came from the door. He called for the visitor to enter and the door opened revealing Aragorn. The man smiled at Legolas before closing the door quietly and walking over to the bed. He placed his hands on the Elf's shoulders. Legolas smiled looking grimly up at his friend.

"How is everything in the Great Hall?" the prince asked.

"The same. But don't worry about that right now. How is Thranduil?" Aragorn moved over to the king and placed a hand on his forehead. Legolas noticed that the man's large hands were completely steady, not shaking like Legolas' own were right then. How could the man be so composed? That was how he was supposed to be.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Legolas asked in a trembling voice.

Aragorn smiled and sat gently down on the bed, being careful not to disturb the king. "Do I look calm?" Legolas nodded, looking down at Aragorn's hands again. "Well, I'm not. Would it help you to know that I'm as scared as you?"

"No," Legolas said simply. That was the last thing he wanted. Aragorn knew how to take charge; he did it during the Quest of the Ring, taking Gandalf's place as the leader of the Fellowship after he fell at Moria. "No, it wouldn't."

Aragorn bowed his head and laughed. "Sorry."

At this point the healer opened the door, carrying with her a bigger, better padded chair. Aragorn immediately got up and helped the healer move the chair to the bed. Legolas also stood to help but Aragorn immediately pushed him gently down into the newly positioned chair and Legolas didn't protest.

"Is there anything else I can do, Your Highness?" the healer asked Aragorn.

He didn't answer immediately but looked over to Legolas who had his head laid sadly in his hands. Aragorn couldn't remember ever having seen his friend in such a bad state. The Prince was shaky and pale. His clothes, over which he wore one of his father's thick robes, were stained with the blood and tears of his people. More than that though, the prince seemed to have an unshakable air of melancholy about him. He tried to hide it in front of his people but here, in private, despair radiated from him and almost overwhelmed Aragorn with its potency.

Aragorn finally answered the healer's question. "Yes, run a bath for the Prince."

Legolas looked up at this, sad eyes looked questioningly up at his friend but Aragorn just stood up and walked into the bathroom adding soothing herbs to the warm water. The healer watched carefully. Seeing such a great man and healer at work was a privilege to any staff member and Aragorn's hands deftly picking out the best combinations of oils and herbs fascinated her.

"Get Legolas some clothes, something warm and comfortable. Then go to the Great Hall and pick up some healing supplies - bandages and select herbs. Go to the kitchens and get him some hot ginger tea and something light to eat, perhaps soup, something he can easily swallow and keep down." Aragorn spoke quietly and confidently but concern was plainly heard in his strong voice. "Oh and while you're there tell Gimli and Elrond that I am here with Legolas but that we are not to be disturbed unless it is absolutely necessary. Let's try and make our prince a little more comfortable, shall we?"

The healer nodded almost enthusiastically and quietly left the room whilst Aragorn turned off the water and checked that the temperature was perfect. When it was perfect he moved his hand through the water, swirling the herbs around. Already the water smelled sweet and pleasant and Aragorn could feel himself relaxing.

He walked back out to the bathroom to find that Legolas was by now dozing lightly in the chair; apparently it was more comfortable than they had first thought. Aragorn smiled and walked over to him. Gently he placed a hand on Legolas' arm and the prince was immediately awake and looking to his father to make certain he was alright. His slightly glazed, tired eyes then turned to Aragorn, who smiled warmly, rubbing a reassuring hand up and down Legolas' trembling arm.

Legolas lowered his head and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Sorry," he said weakly and Aragorn didn't need to see his eyes to know there were tears in them.

"For what?" he asked gently, keeping his hand in place. Legolas just laughed gently but it held no humour. "It's alright, mellon nin," Aragorn reassured. He knelt in front of the prince making sure their eyes met. "It's alright now." Legolas nodded as crystal-like tears fell down his pale face. Aragorn stood up and enveloped the prince in a warm hug as he struggled for control.

After a few minutes Legolas had calmed himself and sat back in the chair again, rubbing his face. Aragorn pulled back but then placed his hand on Legolas' forehead, checking his temperature. It wasn't surprising that he still had a fever.

"Come on," Aragorn said, holding out his hand and pulling an unsteady Legolas out of his chair.

"What?" Legolas asked as Aragorn led him slowly towards the bathroom. "What are you doing?"

Aragorn led Legolas into the bathroom and showed him the bath. "Now is a good opportunity for you to rest a little," he explained.

"Now? Aragorn, my people…I can't."

"Legolas…"

"I will rest when my people do. When this is over. They need me," Legolas protested.

"They do need you. But it won't hurt for you to take care of yourself for a little while."

"I should be…Elrond needs me."

"Elrond needs you to get some sleep. You're completely exhausted, mellon nin. You have to rest."

"But…my people." Although he was protesting, Legolas wanted nothing more than to sink into that bath and forget about his troubles for a while but guilt overcame his desire. "How can I relax when they suffer so?"

"By remembering that you also suffer, mellon nin," Aragorn retorted.

"What? I am fine, Aragorn."

"Oh, right. Of course you are," the man's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I…"

"Please, Legolas. Just let me take care of you for a while. Please?" Legolas looked out at his sleeping father with concern. "Thranduil will be fine. He's right next door and I'll keep an eye on him. Come on, you'll feel a lot better afterwards. I hate to see you suffer so, Legolas."

Bowing his head, Legolas nodded slowly. Everything his friend said made sense. He couldn't argue with the fact that he was feeling unwell and desperately needed to unwind. Aragorn moved behind him and helped him shrug out of his thick robe. Although he was shivering, Aragorn could feel the heat of a fever coming off Legolas but chose not to mention it for the time being. As Aragorn placed the over-robe on a chair standing in the corner, Legolas unbuttoned his shirt, wincing as he slipped it off his shoulders. Aragorn helped him, trying not to gasp when he saw the sore, red blotches that spotted Legolas' otherwise flawless skin. The whole of Legolas' body ached fiercely and he found it difficult to not wince as he moved to take off his leggings. He paused, however, when he remembered that Aragorn was still in the room.

The man noticed his hesitation. "For Valar's sake, Legolas, I am a healer," Aragorn smiled, looking pointedly at his friend.

Legolas just laughed softly before nodding and removing his leggings, leaning slightly on Aragorn for balance, something he would never have had to do normally, but right then he could only just stand up on two feet let alone one. When he was fully unclothed, Aragorn helped the shaky Elf relax down into the soothingly warm water. Legolas sank down into the water and couldn't stop a sigh escaping his lips as the fragrant water caressed his cold skin. Aragorn smiled at the prince even though he couldn't see it; he had already closed his eyes and slid further down into the water, trying to immerse as much of his shaking body as possible.

"Nice?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas opened his eyes half-way and looked tiredly up at Aragorn, who he had nearly forgotten was even there. "You make a good bath," he complimented with a smile.

"Good," the man smiled back.

A knock came from the door, disturbing the peace of the room. It wouldn't have been the healer; she couldn't have completed all his requests so quickly.

Legolas looked up at Aragorn as the person knocked again. "I'll get rid of them," Aragorn said, walking out of the room. He opened the door to reveal a very dishevelled looking Elf standing in the corridor. "Go away," Aragorn said simply before the healer could even speak.

"I need to see Prince Legolas," the Elf said.

"He's not available," Aragorn answered diplomatically. "Is it a matter that requires his immediate attention?"

"We're running out of healing supplies…."

"Then talk to Lord Elrond. Legolas is busy. Now go away." With that Aragorn shut the door on the Elf and returned to the bathroom where Legolas had been listening to the conversation.

"Maybe I should…"

"Don't worry about it. Elrond will handle it."

"But…"

"Legolas," Aragorn warned. "Don't worry about it."

As he said this another light tap came from the door. Just as he was about to run and shout at the insistent Elf, the healer walked back in. How she managed to balance so many things was beyond Aragorn but he walked towards her and relieved her of some of her burden. She had brought him almost everything he had asked for in one go.

"Is there anything else I can get you while I fetch the food?" she asked.

"No, thank you," Aragorn replied.

"I'll go and get the food then," she said immediately walking out of the room. She knew that her prince would want some privacy and she didn't want to intrude upon that.

Aragorn placed the things on the table before returning to Legolas in the bathroom. The prince was leaning back against the tub with his eyes peacefully closed. They opened, however, when he heard the King of Gondor entering.

"Feeling any better?" Aragorn asked with a knowing smile.

"Hmmm," was Legolas' incoherent reply.

Aragorn snatched up a cloth and some soap from the edge of the bath. "Here," he said gently, dipping the cloth in the water and lathering the soap. He handed the soapy flannel to Legolas, who took it from him lazily, not really paying too much attention to what was going on. Sitting up, he began slowly washing himself off. His hands were still shaking but at least they now felt warm whereas before they had been weak and cold.

Seeing Legolas' marred body nearly brought tears to Aragorn's eyes. He must have been in pain, although he barely showed it even now he was away from the prying eyes of his people. Now, alone in private though, the utter exhaustion and misery the prince was suffering was seeping through the cracks in his mask.

Lazily washing himself, Legolas kept his eyes closed. This was the first time he had been able to do so without horrific images of death passing through his mind and it felt good.

Aragorn smiled softly and took the cloth from Legolas' weak hands. The prince opened his eyes in mild surprise but closed them again when Aragorn added more soap and began carefully cleaning his cold, pale skin.

When the prince was suitably clean, Aragorn got up and placed a warm, fluffy towel on the back of the chair. Legolas leaned back again and Aragorn decided to leave him to himself for a few minutes while he sorted out the healing things the healer had brought. Every now and then, his sharp grey eyes flicked to Thranduil who still slept soundly; seemingly unaware of everything that was going on with his kingdom and his son. For a moment Aragorn envied the king. Pulling himself away from Thranduil, Aragorn returned to the bathroom where Legolas was still reclining in the water, now half asleep. He sat down on the chair and smiled at the sight.

"Come on. I think it's time to get out before you turn into a prune," Aragorn joked.

Legolas reluctantly opened his eyes and looked up at Aragorn with mock annoyance. However, he nodded and pushed himself up whilst Aragorn held out the towel for him. Bundled up in a warm towel, Legolas stepped out of the bathtub and followed Aragorn to the chair, into which he was pushed down.

Collecting the healing supplies from the bedroom Aragorn knelt in front of the prince, who was hugging the towel tightly to his body, preserving the warmth for as long as possible. Already the steady shivering had started to return. Aragorn took up a glass pot of a green herbal paste and dipped the corner of a cloth into it. With his free hand he pulled back a corner of Legolas' towel and applied the sweet-smelling paste to one of the larger red blotches on Legolas' skin. At first the prince was a little startled at this but he settled when he realised it was just another of Aragorn's healing techniques. He didn't have the heart to tell his friend that Elrond had already applied a similar mixture and it had been completely ineffective. However, his faith in Aragorn's healing skills was absolute and he let the man continue.

"Are you warm enough?" Aragorn asked, looking up from what he was doing and attaching a padded bandage to one particularly bad sore. Legolas nodded gently in answer, his blue eyes firmly fixed on the opposite wall. In truth, he hadn't felt so good since before all this started.

Although Legolas tried to hide it, Aragorn knew he was still in pain and he knew where it was most affecting him. When he had finished applying the green paste and bandages, he retrieved a bottle of scented massage oil, pulling the stopper out and inhaling the relaxing scent. Ideally the oil was supposed to be heated but Aragorn knew it worked just as well straight from the bottle. The healers often used it to help relieve stress on the muscles or just for general relaxation purposes. It was the best and quickest way Aragorn knew to relieve the aching Legolas was suffering.

Aragorn tipped a bit into the palm of his hands and, after replacing the bottle, rubbed them together, slightly warming the oil in the process. He looked up at Legolas but the Elf had his eyes closed again, apparently savouring the warmth before it disappeared completely. Aragorn placed his hands on Legolas' leg and began gently massaging the oil into his skin. The prince opened his eyes in surprise at the sensation and looked down at the man when he felt his soft touch.

Aragorn explained, "It is massage oil. It'll loosen your muscles; stop the aching, even if only for a while."

It obviously worked as when Aragorn moved to the other leg, Legolas leaned back with a relieved sigh and closed his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered when the annoying aching faded a little under the man's gentle touch.

Once he had finished on his legs, Aragorn stood up and, after refreshing the oil on his hands, pulled the towel from Legolas' shoulders and arms. The Elf briefly shuddered but when Aragorn began massaging it stopped and he went still and relaxed again.

At this point, the healer returned with a bowl of steaming soup and an equally hot mug of ginger tea, just as Aragorn had requested. She placed them on a table in the bedroom then silently entered the bathroom, diverting her eyes respectfully from her prince who merely smiled weakly when he noticed her, and waited for further instructions from the King of Gondor.

"Could you please light a fire?" he said after a second. "And hang the prince's clothes in front of it so they warm up."

"A fire?" she asked in apparent confusion.

"Yes, a fire. Why?"

"No one ever lights these fires anymore," Legolas answered for the healer.

Aragorn stopped what he was doing and turned to the servant, whose eyes had drifted to her half-naked, injured prince. "Then now would be a good time to start again."

Obeying the King of Gondor's orders, the servant left the room to light a fire. They were rarely used in Mirkwood simply because Elves didn't usually feel the cold. They were only constantly lit in the main healing hall where recovering patients needed the extra warmth. Each room contained a fireplace though, more for ornamental and decorative purposes than for anything practical. A lot of the time the King's and Prince's fires were lit during the day so the rooms were the perfect temperature for when the Royals returned to their rooms in the evening. However, Mirkwood, to a human anyway, was a cold place – comfortable but cold – and now Legolas was also feeling it. It may not have physically helped his condition but heat often brought with it comfort and right then they all needed that.

Aragorn began massaging again. In a moment, the healer came back, silently nodding that she had done as asked.

"Move the prince's nice new soft chair in front of the fire." When Legolas shot him a disapproving look, he added, "And make sure it is facing the King." Legolas nodded in satisfaction and the healer returned once more to the bedroom.

**

"Lord Elrond, where is Prince Legolas? I need to speak with him." A healer had approached Elrond whilst he was assessing a patient who had been given the possible antidote.

"He is not to be disturbed," Elrond answered distractedly. Another healer had already informed him of what Aragorn was doing with Legolas and Elrond wanted to avoid anyone interrupting his few moments of peace. "What is wrong?"

"I really think I should report to the Prince…"

"I said he is busy. You may report to me," Elrond snapped, in no mood for a debate. The Elf before him showed no signs of getting any better. Elrond's first attempt at a cure had been unsuccessful; hardly surprising but frustrating nonetheless.

The healer hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "There was a fight in one of the healing halls, my Lord. Someone's been stabbed."

**To Be Continued…**

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**Translations:**

**Mellon nin – **My friend.


	16. Breaking

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 16 ~ Breaking**

Aragorn wiped the remaining oil off his hands and placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "I'll be right back." He went and retrieved Legolas' clothes from in front of the fire, disturbing the young healer who had been dozing in the chair. She shot up when Aragorn stepped past her.

"Sorry, Sire," she quickly apologised with a hasty bow and a flush of embarrassment at being caught sleeping on the job.

Aragorn merely smiled and placed his free hand on her shoulder. "There is nothing more you can do you. I'll watch Thranduil. You go and rest. Here," he picked up Legolas' keys and found the one to Thranduil's chambers, "you can rest in Thranduil's room."

She looked utterly shocked at this suggestion. "No, Sir! I couldn't possibly."

"Why not? The King isn't using them and Legolas won't mind." He pushed the keys into her hand. "Just keep the fire going and don't move anything."

"But…"

"There is no where else quiet. I need some time alone with Legolas. Go on."

After pondering on this for a moment, the healer nodded nervously and left the room whilst Aragorn returned to the bathroom. "Here. Put these on while they are still warm," he said to Legolas who looked up when he heard the man.

Legolas went to stand but his legs suddenly seemed too weak to support him and he was forced to sit back down lest he fall to the ground. When he turned sorrowful crystal blue eyes to Aragorn the man smiled weakly and wordlessly held out his hands to help his friend up. He said nothing as Legolas took them with shaking hands. His friend's eyes remained cast downwards in shame and frustration. Once he was standing, Aragorn passed him his clean trousers, thicker and more comfortable than simple leggings. Legolas pulled them on immediately, his balance now mostly restored. After the trousers he put on his undershirt, then a thick tunic and finally his long, thick, warm over-robe.

Aragorn led the way into the bedroom and guided Legolas to the comfortable chair by the fire. The prince stood still for a moment before turning to Aragorn. "I should check everything is alright in the Great Hall," he said, looking anxiously towards the door.

"Elrond has everything under control," Aragorn reassured, not knowing the reason for the prince's sudden reluctance to rest. Up until now he had been reasonably calm and relaxed. "Come on, sit down for a while."

"But Mirkwood…"

"Legolas, you need to take care of yourself as well as everyone else."

"I…"

"What is wrong?" Aragorn asked gently, knowing his best friend was hiding something. "Legolas?"

"If I sit down now…I'm not sure I'll be able to get back up." He said it with feigned humour but Aragorn could hear the despairing sadness in his voice.

"It's alright. I'll be right here to make sure that you do." Aragorn forced a warm smile onto his face but knew he couldn't fully hide his true sympathy and that it wouldn't go unnoticed by the ever-observant prince. However, Legolas gave a slight smile of consent, trusting his friend.

Aragorn sat the still trembling Elf down and fetched the warm soup and hot ginger tea. He placed the bowl of soup in Legolas' pliable hands.

"Eat this. It'll warm you up even more," Aragorn instructed, retrieving a hairbrush to comb through the prince's hair.

Legolas looked dubiously at the food, remembering his earlier reaction. "I don't think I can," he said sorrowfully. He didn't exactly feel hungry but he did feel 'empty' – although he didn't think this was entirely due to lack of food.

Aragorn came to his side and placed a hand on his arm. "You have to try. You need to keep your energy up." Legolas shook his head sadly. "Come on, Legolas. I have some ginger tea to settle your stomach if you feel nauseous. You must eat something. For me." Legolas found he couldn't argue with that plea and he shakily raised a spoonful of the broth to his mouth. It tasted good but he could already feel his stomach churning in protest. He reached for the tea and took a small sip, praying it would work.

His friend meanwhile began combing through Legolas' perfect golden hair, almost completely identical to his father's. The pair were so alike in looks and yet so different in temperament. Legolas was patient and calm whilst Thranduil was aloof and often hot-headed. The two got on well enough most of the time though. Not that there weren't arguments. Legolas could always stand his ground against his father when he needed to. Of course, Aragorn hadn't even been born when a young Legolas had lost his mother to Orcs but he remembered Legolas talking about how devastated he had been. Losing a parent was a dreadful thing but to then lose your brother and father…Aragorn couldn't even begin to imagine how utterly soul-shattering that must have been. Right then, he wasn't sure Legolas could handle losing anyone else. He wouldn't survive it.

It was easy to forget amidst the chaos of the disease that the prince's own family was rapidly falling to pieces. He was not alone though. Hundreds had lost family and friends but none were expected to run a kingdom that was fast falling into the grips of terror and confusion. And no one could do anything but strive to relieve as much pressure on the last remaining capable royal, not an easy task considering the situation.

**

Elrond ran into the healing room and was immediately confronted with one Elf lying dead in a pool of blood on the floor and another being restrained by a pair of strong, apparently uninfected guards.

"What happened here?" the Elf Lord demanded, striding over to the restrained Elf.

One of the two guards answered, keeping a firm hand on the criminal's arm. "He attacked the healer with a knife. According to some of the patients who witnessed the incident he just grabbed him and then stabbed him with a dagger. He says the healer was secretly hiding a cure."

Elrond sighed heavily. As if he didn't have enough on his hands at the moment. "Get him out of here. Lock him down in the dungeons." He then turned his attention to the bloody corpse. He had seen too many of these in the last few days. This was his first murder though and it deeply unsettled him. "Does he have family in Mirkwood?" Elrond asked one of the healers.

"No, my Lord. He is from Lothlorien but I believe he has a wife there."

"Is he infected?"

"No. He was one of the lucky ones," the healer said, almost smirking at the irony.

Elrond nodded. "Move him into an empty room. His family can give him a proper burial when all this is over." The healer nodded and started calling out orders and Elrond went back to his important work.

**

Legolas finished off his soup and handed the empty bowl to Aragorn.

"You ate all of it," Aragorn said, impressed. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Better," Legolas smiled genuinely.

"Good. Do you need anything else?"

Legolas shook his head. "Not unless you will let me go to the Great Hall." Although he had suggested it Legolas didn't sound too sure about it. In truth he wanted nothing more than to sit there dozing by the warmth of the fire but guilt and a strong sense of duty forced him to ask. And Aragorn, knowing exactly what the prince needed and wanted, said 'no'. It was in that simple gesture, someone making a decision for him, that made Legolas feel so much better. It was the first time it had happened since the plague hit Mirkwood and the relief of that burden nearly shattered his composure. All he could do was whisper, "Thank you." Aragorn nodded, knowing exactly how much it meant to his friend.

The King fetched a spare blanket from the cupboard and carefully placed it over Legolas' knees to keep him warm. The Elf could do nothing but sigh in contentment. Even though he knew this wouldn't last long he revelled in it. Already his body was beginning to ache again and his hands were shaking once more. The worst thing though was that when he leaned his head back and closed his eyes the images of the bodies burning on the funeral pyres returned to haunt him. Snapping his eyes open he saw Aragorn checking on Thranduil again. The man looked over when he felt Legolas' intense gaze on him. He was surprised to find tears in them.

Stepping over to Legolas and crouching down in front of him, Aragorn asked, "What's wrong, mellon nin?"

After a pause Legolas answered, "He's going to die, isn't he?" It was the question he had been avoiding, knowing he couldn't handle the answer.

Aragorn's only response was silence before he finally regained his voice. "We don't know that yet," he answered carefully.

Legolas nodded. "I can't, Aragorn," his words came out as more of a sob. "I can't lose him."

"You won't. We'll find a way." Aragorn placed his hands on Legolas' knees.

"I can't live without him."

"Don't. Don't you dare talk like that, Legolas. We will get through this together. Do you hear me?"

"What am I supposed to do, Aragorn?" Legolas asked despairingly, looking up at his old friend.

"You carry on what you're doing now: taking one step at a time. That's the only way we can get through this."

"I don't know if I can," Legolas cried.

"Yes, you can. Of course you can."

Legolas shook his head. "No. Rumil was…"

"Rumil is dead," Aragorn said a little too sharply, wanting to get through to his friend.

"But he was the strong one. I…"

"You are strong too, Legolas. You are. I know you're just as strong as your brother was. You can do this." Again Legolas shook his head. "Yes."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"I keep seeing them, Aragorn. They're haunting me."

"Who?" Aragorn asked in confusion, looking straight into Legolas' blue eyes, which were now glazed with tears. That frantic look was back.

"Them. The dead people."

"Legolas…"

"I can't stop thinking about them, Estel."

"Mellon nin, I'm so sorry," Aragorn whispered, tears in his own eyes at his friend's despair. "Your own friends…" he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"You and Elrond can't stop them haunting me."

"No one is haunting you, Legolas. You just…you're tired, that's all. Once you've had some proper rest you'll feel better, I promise."

"I can't sleep." Legolas rubbed his hands over his tired eyes.

"I'll see if I can give you something to help." Aragorn got up and went to fetch some sleeping herbs but Legolas stopped him.

"No! I can't keep seeing them!"

Aragorn was suddenly at a loss. "Legolas, listen to me…"

"They haunt me."

"Listen to me, what you have been through is horrific but you are not being haunted. Do you hear me? These are just dreams, delusions." Aragorn had never seen his friend like this before and it terrified him. "You are going to be fine."

Legolas looked at Aragorn in what appeared to be utter desperation the likes of which Aragorn had never seen before. "I'm so scared," it came out as more a whimper than anything else before Legolas bent over as though the physical weight of his terror nearly crippled him.

Aragorn stood up and placed a hand on Legolas' back. The Elf sat up and threw his arms around Aragorn, resting his head on the man's stomach. The King then wrapped his arms around Legolas, gently stroking the flaxen hair. There were tears in his own eyes as he held the sobbing Elf.

"I'm so scared. Aragorn, please help me. Please," Legolas cried.

"Shhh. I will. It's going to be alright." He wished he could believe his own words.

"It hurts." Aragorn hadn't been expecting that.

"Shh. It'll be alright, I promise."

"Please help me."

"I will."

"I can't do it anymore, Aragorn. I can't."

"Shhh. I've got you, mellon nin. I've got you."

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**Translations**

**Mellon nin – **My friend

**Please don't kill me. I had to have Legolas break at some point!!!! Man, that chapter is sad…**

**Please review, I love hearing from you all.**


	17. Healing

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Sold Into Ruin**

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**Chapter 17 ~ Healing**

Elrond slammed another book closed unnecessarily hard. Another waste of his time. It seemed that every time he thought he was getting close to finding something useful there would be something else to disprove his newly formed theory. Finding a cure had obviously been impossible for the chief healer in the other affected land he had been reading about and he was beginning to think that maybe there really wasn't a cure to be found. He was still determined to keep going though. He had to find something to help Mirkwood.

Impatience was starting to pulse frustratingly through him but he quickly checked himself. He couldn't afford to give into that right now. He had to remain cool and calm. For Legolas if nothing else. The young prince seemed to be slowly falling apart and without the presence of his father he needed someone to take the reins and guide him through this time. Elrond could do that. He would do that.

**

Aragorn kept his tight hold on Legolas as the sick Elf cried against him. This was the first time he had ever seen the prince like this but Aragorn had felt this coming for a long time. A person could only go through so much before he had to lean on someone else for support and Legolas had been through more than enough; his family, his people, his own pain.

Legolas' cries had died down but he still leaned against the man, his tear-stained face buried in Aragorn's tunic. His hands were no longer grasping at the man but he clearly still needed the close contact and comfort as he didn't move from his place. And Aragorn was more than happy to let Legolas lean on him; that was what he was there for. Legolas' earlier admissions had shaken Aragorn; he had never heard the prince speak openly about his troubles before. Usually, he was so quiet, withdrawn.

After a while, Legolas pulled back but Aragorn kept a comforting hand on his arm just in case he was needed. The prince sniffed and wiped his eyes, keeping them diverted from Estel who was watching him closely.

"I'm sorry," Legolas said, pulling his hair out of his face. His voice still wavered but it no longer had the hysteric quality Aragorn had heard earlier.

"Please don't be," Aragorn whispered, giving his friend's arm a reassuring squeeze.

Legolas just whispered again, "I'm so sorry."

Reaching forward, Aragorn lifted the prince's chin so he could look directly into his eyes. "You don't ever have to apologise to me. Ever. Do you understand?" he said almost fiercely, bordering on angry that Legolas considered needing a shoulder to cry on cause to apologise.

Legolas sighed and leaned back in the soft chair, exhausted. "Thank you, my friend." Aragorn just smiled and carefully rearranged the ruffled blanket over the prince to make him more comfortable. He then dragged his own chair over to Legolas' so he could remain close.

"Try and get some rest now, Legolas," the man advised but noticed Legolas hesitate. "Don't worry, I'll take of Thranduil and wake you if anything happens. You need to sleep, even if only for a while. Would you like me to give you something to help?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, I want to remain relatively alert. Just in case." Aragorn nodded in understanding. "Estel, could you please stay close? I…I don't want to be alone."

"Of course I will," Estel assured, sensing the Elf's concern and fear. "Don't worry. Now, go to sleep."

As Legolas' eyes slipped closed he reached for Aragorn's hand. The man took it, of course, although he was surprised at the gesture. However, anything to allow Legolas to get some rest. Once he was sure Legolas was asleep Aragorn turned his gaze back to the king and couldn't help thinking that he was in the best position to be in right then – unconscious and completely unaware of what was going on in Mirkwood. He almost envied the king.

*~*

In the Great Hall Gimli had taken over from Aragorn in the triage section although he had absolutely no medical training. Given that this was an exceptional circumstance it didn't really matter. More of the healers were getting sick and they needed all the help they could get. Besides anyone could put on a bandage at a push. Seeing what they were really up against brought fear to Gimli's heart. Not for himself. Elrond was pretty sure that it didn't affect other species – Frodo was the exception. He was dreadfully afraid for Legolas though. The Elf was obviously unwell. Gimli didn't like seeing his normally fun and optimistic friend so low and afraid.

Another infected Elf approached him, just one in a long line of the sick and dying. After looking him over and spotting the obvious symptoms of the disease Gimli led the Elf to another Elven healer who led him to a makeshift bed amongst all the others. Just another of a growing number of people they couldn't help. It was a depressing fact but one that couldn't be avoided. It was hard for Gimli to accept and he didn't know any of these people; for Legolas it must have been excruciating.

"How is everything?" Elrond's strong voice came from behind Gimli, startling him.

"Don't do that!" Gimli yelled, causing a smile to cross the face of the wise Elf.

"Jumpy, Gimli?"

"Of course not. I just don't like Elves sneaking up on me, that's all."

"Any improvements? Any _changes_?" Elrond rephrased the question.

Gimli shot him another glare before answering. "Nothing of note. More people. More deaths. We're running out of beds again."

"In a way that's good. It means less people are dying."

"But it also means more people are getting sick."

"It also means a lack of supplies," Elrond mused.

After a moment's silence Gimli spoke again, "Have you had any luck in finding a cure?"

"Some. It's complicated though. I've found a few references but nothing that will help find a cure. It's a start at least. I had better get back." With that Elrond walked away leaving Gimli standing amongst the many patients waiting for attention from someone who could help.

*~*

"Lord Elrond," a voice came from the side of Elrond, who had been walking the corridors deep in thought. He was stopped by Sam's small voice. The Hobbit successfully caught Elrond's attention and he turned to face the Halfling, who was stood in the doorway of Legolas' rooms, where Frodo was still lying unconscious. In truth Elrond had almost forgotten about the Hobbit, being too preoccupied with finding a cure.

"Sam. I thought Legolas ordered you all to stay in your rooms."

"I…we…"

"Relax, I won't tell him. Is something wrong? How is Frodo?" Elrond stepped into the room, glancing to the bed where Frodo remained lying with Merry and Pippin sat by his side in a constant vigil.

"He just lies there," Pippin said softly.

Elrond checked the Hobbit's fever and looked him over before announcing, "His condition hasn't improved but neither has it worsened."

"What should we do?" Merry asked quietly, as though not wanting to break the tense atmosphere.

"There is nothing you can do but sit with him and hope he recovers."

There was a tense silence before Sam thankfully broke it. "How is everything else?"

Elrond hesitated in answering the Hobbit's question, not wanting to further upset him. However, they did deserve to know the truth seeing as they were stuck right in the middle of this crisis. "Getting worse," he said simply. On seeing their disappointed faces he added, "But I am a little close to finding a cure. Don't worry Sam, everyone is doing their very best to work this out."

"I know, Master Elrond," Sam smiled falsely.

"And Legolas? How is he?" Pippin asked, remembering seeing his Elven friend in such a state earlier.

Again, Elrond hesitated. He didn't honestly know how Legolas really was. "He is also infected by this disease," he answered truthfully. The Hobbits all looked shocked at this, the words from the great healer of Rivendell confirming their suspicions but doing nothing to alleviate their concerns. "But Aragorn is with him." Noticing their increased sadness, Elrond smiled and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Don't worry about Legolas, young Halflings. He is strong. He will be well again."

They all nodded even though they didn't completely believe him. "We should let you get back then," Merry said softly. Elrond nodded before walking to the door and, after glancing once more at the Hobbits, he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

*~*

Back in the only patient-free healing room in Mirkwood, Elrond returned to his books. Physical progress only came once mental progress had been achieved and he couldn't do anything until he understood what he was…Slamming the book violently closed, Elrond sighed heavily in frustration. Reading wouldn't help anymore. They didn't have the time. By the time he had read through all the books, Mirkwood would be deserted. This wasn't the time to be following the rules of healing. He needed to do something pro-active.

Walking over to Rumil's body, Elrond pulled the sheet back, looking sadly at the prince's pale face for a moment. It only took a moment for him to recover enough from his grief, knowing he simply didn't have the time to indulge in his emotions right then.

He wasn't looking forward to his next task but he had no other choice. Elrond picked up the knife on his desk and placed it against the cold flesh. Before he made any cut he pulled back. Walking quickly over to the door, he locked it firmly. He didn't want Legolas or anyone else walking in on this. Going back to the body once more Elrond placed the knife against Rumil's chest, pushed down and pulled the sharp blade down his torso.

**To Be Continued…**

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**Yep, that's right, folks. Elrond's finally performing an autopsy. Please review.**


	18. Death And Life

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and also to everyone who has added this to their favourites/alerts lists. That's a great honour. I hope you also like this chapter and please let me know what you think.**

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**Chapter 18 ~ Death and Life**

Legolas was absolutely sound asleep; his head leaned back against the chair, his legs curled underneath him, his arms wrapped around himself beneath the blanket that covered his body. For the first time in ages, Legolas actually looked peaceful. His eyes were closed but Aragorn supposed that was normal considering how exhausted he was.

Thankfully, the man's assurances had been enough to relax Legolas enough for him to drift off into sleep, something he desperately needed. Running a kingdom under normal circumstances was hard work, Aragorn had first-hand experience at that, but in stressful times it was much harder especially if you had little to no experience in doing so.

However, Aragorn suspected that any king, even Thranduil, would have problems dealing with this. Of course, Thranduil had worked through many hardships in Mirkwood in the past – the threat of Dol Guldur and the growing darkness of the forest - but this was different. This wasn't simply a case of deploying more troops or entering into careful negotiations. There was no simple answer. And Legolas was not like his father. Even before the Quest of the Ring he had not been a particularly enthusiastic leader of his people. When needed he would always pull through and he commanded his troops in the Mirkwood Guard better than almost anyone else but he would not openly search for the opportunity, unlike his brother who always jumped at the chance. It was not something ever required of the youngest Prince of Mirkwood. Rumil had received all the Royal training – leadership, defence and diplomacy. Legolas had simply never needed to. Rumil was always going to be the next king, Legolas would never really get a look in and he liked it that way. Not having to live up to the expectations of Royalty allowed him to enjoy Mirkwood and his role within it. Not that he didn't work hard. He had Royal duties just like his brother but it was Thranduil and Rumil who took on most of the official responsibility within the kingdom.

Aragorn looked to Thranduil who stirred slightly in his sleep. Luckily he didn't wake. Any disturbance to Legolas would not be good and he would surely wake should his father make even the smallest sound of distress. Aragorn wanted the prince to sleep as long as possible. It wouldn't help Thranduil much either. The King also needed his rest. As much as Legolas had wanted his father to wake, Aragorn knew the King was probably better off in sleep. Even if he was awake it wouldn't help him. Right then both family members were better off.

Walking back over to Legolas, Aragorn gently brushed the Prince's golden hair back from his face. Legolas stirred but didn't wake, only shifted to get into a more comfortable position. Aragorn stroked his hair and shushed him. This immediately settled him with a small sigh and Aragorn smiled gently at his old friend. He sat down in the chair next to Legolas. The fire did have a relaxing effect on him but he managed to stay awake, he needed to stay alert for Legolas and Thranduil. It really was the perfect incentive.

*~*

Elrond finished his autopsy on Rumil but didn't do anything for a long moment; he just stared down at the bloody, dead Crown Prince with an intense look of sadness. It seemed so unfair to cut the prince up but it had seemed necessary. Unfortunately, he had learned nothing from Rumil's corpse. It had been a complete waste of time.

He sat back down at his desk once he had pulled a sheet over the exposed body of Rumil. He couldn't bear to look at him any longer, preferring to allow him some dignity in death.

As he pulled out another book someone rattled on the doorknob. A knock quickly followed when the person realised it was locked. Elrond tiredly got up and opened the door. He was confronted with an excited-looking healer.

"My Lord, I have news about the cure." Before Elrond could say anything, the healer grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. Elrond didn't say anything as he was unceremoniously pulled through the corridors although he quickly realised they were heading towards Mirkwood's holding cells. "It's a miracle, my Lord," the healer enthused as he pushed guards out of the way to get into one of the cells.

Hanging from a short length of rope in the corner of the room was the Elf Elrond himself had sent to the dungeons for murder not an hour previously. The Elf was quite obviously dead and although he had committed murder Elrond saw no reason for the healer to be so enthusiastic about the death of another. Looking sadly at the body, Elrond turned to the healer who was smiling at Elrond.

"Well, what's wrong? Apart from the obvious."

"Look, my Lord," the healer prompted, physically shoving him around so he faced the dead criminal.

"What exactly am I looking at?" Elrond asked tiredly with obvious confusion. His mind was too tired to work at its usual quick pace.

"He is not sick," the healer said excitedly as though this was supposed to mean something important to the Elven Lord.

"So?" As far as Elrond remembered the Elf had not been affected by the disease when he had been imprisoned. Not that it mattered now. No disease or illness could harm him now.

"So he was sick before and now look at him. There's not a mark on him. He doesn't even look unwell, not from disease anyway."

Elrond walked over to the dead Elf. The healer was right. The prisoner was fine – apart from the fact he was dead. In fact, he was looking healthier than any other Elf in Mirkwood. Although Elrond hadn't seen the Elf's sickness himself he trusted the guards and healers to make a correct diagnosis, they had seen more than enough to have learned the symptoms and it was not something they were likely to forget easily.

Elrond's next question was short and confused. "How?"

"We were hoping you might have an explanation," the healer answered.

"Who found him?"

"I did, my Lord," a guard said, stepping forward. "I was doing my rounds and I just found him hanging. Before that though he was coughing up blood, shaking and crying just like all the others. I noticed some bruises on him but they are already beginning to fade."

"This is impossible." Elrond walked over to the body and circled it, looking for any signs of illness. "Cut him down," he ordered.

Immediately another guard stepped forward and cut the rope with his sword. The Elf fell heavily to the floor. As he fell something rolled out of his pocket. Elrond bent down and picked it up. He recognised it instantly, it was a glass medicine vial from the healing halls but there was nothing left in it. Examining it closely gave Elrond no better ideas to what the strange liquid was.

"Didn't you find this when you searched him as he was brought in?"

The guard hesitated, shifting nervously. "No, my Lord. I was on my own though. I…"

"Alright. Does anyone know what this is?" he asked the crowd. No one said anything. "Get him out of here."

"My Lord, should we inform Prince Legolas of this?" the healer asked.

Elrond paused, weighing up whether he should trouble the young prince. "No, we don't know anything yet. We had best not disturb him until we know something more."

"Now what?" the other healer asked.

"I think it's a safe bet that whatever cured him came from this bottle. Didn't he murder that healer because he thought he was withholding a cure?"

"Do you think the healer really did have a cure?"

"This Elf killed him for it, took it himself…"

"And then hung himself."

"Granted it doesn't make sense but I can think of no other explanation," Elrond said holding up the vial. "I'm going to the healing room; see if I can find out what this is."

"My Lord, what if this really is the cure?" the healer asked in excitement.

"Then we just got very lucky. Keep this to yourselves, we don't know anything for certain yet," Elrond said as he left the room.

Once he had left the cells Elrond quickly sped up, nearly running towards the healing room where he had left his books and the body of the Crown Prince of Mirkwood. It was difficult to ignore all the people who tried to stop him to ask his advice, but he knew he had a more important mission right now. He had to find out whether he really was holding the cure. He found it hard to believe but right then he would try just about anything. He briefly wondered whether he should enlist Aragorn's help but decided against it, knowing the man was tending to Legolas, not something he wanted to disturb if he could at all help it. Besides by the time he had done that he could have figured out what the liquid was.

He walked into the healing room and slammed the door shut, locking it; he didn't want to be disturbed, the quicker he did this the better. Gathering various chemicals from a store cupboard he lined them up along the table. He forced himself not to look at Rumil, knowing it would only distract him. So he plunged into his work hoping it wouldn't prove entirely fruitless.

**To Be Continued…**

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**Ha, ha, has Elrond really found the cure? Could it soon all be over? You'll find out soon enough. Please review.**


	19. The Ultimate Test

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 19 ~ The Ultimate Test**

Elrond suddenly shot up out of his chair. He had done it! He had found a cure. Theoretically. Still this was enough. It was closer than the healer in the book had gotten anyway. Elrond pulled open the door and ran down the corridor to the Royal healing room.

**

Aragorn sat by the fire watching the only two remaining members of the Royal Family. Legolas was sleeping fitfully but he was still sleeping, which was the important thing. Once or twice, it looked like he might wake but Aragorn managed to coax him back into sleep. The herbs and massage oil had long since worn off and the longer Legolas stayed in the land of Elven dreams the better. Despite this, Aragorn couldn't help but worry that, like Thranduil, he would not wake up. However, it was a risk he had to take. He couldn't see Legolas in pain and discomfort any longer. At one point he did consider waking him and repeating his comforting procedure but decided against it. If he woke then he would do it.

A gentle but urgent tap on the door stirred Aragorn from his musings. He got up, ready to shout at a servant to go away. Upon opening the door he saw Elrond stood with a bright smile on his face.

"Ada," Aragorn said in shock. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine. Better than fine. I think I've found it."

"The cure?" Aragorn asked in surprise, standing aside to let Elrond into the room.

"Yes. There was a murder, a hanging, but that's not important. I thought Legolas should know." Elrond paused, he had almost forgotten about the prince in his excitement. "How is he?"

"He's been asleep for a few hours. He is getting worse, Elrond. You should have seen him." Aragorn watched his friend for a moment before answering.

"I don't think we should wake him. He needs the rest," Aragorn told his father.

"He really needs to know about this, Estel. Lack of hope can kill just as quickly as this illness."

Aragorn nodded but advised, "Gently."

Elrond walked over to the chair by the fire and knelt down in front of Legolas. Reaching up he felt the young Elf's forehead. It was as hot as before but not in a warm, comfortable way. Legolas didn't look any better than the last time he saw him but he was asleep, Aragorn had done a good job.

He placed a hand on Legolas' arm but the prince didn't wake. "Legolas," Elrond called just loud enough to wake him without startling him. "Legolas," he repeated. This second call roused the prince. He sat up straight in his chair, his eyes both tired and alert at the same time.

"Elrond? Ada?" Urgency clouded his voice now.

"It's alright. He's fine," Aragorn reassured, standing to one side of him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "He's fine."

"Estel? What's wrong?" he asked, rubbing his shaking hands over his tired eyes.

"Nothing is wrong," Elrond said. "I think I might have found something."

"A cure?" Legolas asked, painfully unfolding his legs from underneath him. He was still cold, stiff and achy, even more so after his sleep.

"Maybe. There was a murder, a servant attacked and killed a healer he thought possessed a cure. Anyway, I dismissed it as a symptom of the illness; tensions have been running rather high of late. I ordered him to be taken to the dungeons. Then I was told that he had hung himself in his cell. He showed virtually none of the signs of the disease. I found this in his pocket when he was cut down." Elrond showed them the vial. "I took it to the healing halls and analyzed the small amount of liquid that remained in it. This is what I came up with." He pulled another glass vial from his pocket, this one full of a thick green substance.

"The cure," Aragorn said in awed wonder.

"Perhaps. It might not work, so don't get your hopes up too high."

"But you have found something," Legolas said, hope flooding into his voice.

"It's more than we had before," Elrond said cautiously.

"Have you tested it on anyone yet?" Aragorn asked.

"No. I thought you needed to know about it first."

"Well now is as good a time as any."

"I'll do it right now. We should know the result in a couple of hours."

"Try it on Ada," Legolas said suddenly, his voice vague and distant.

When both Aragorn and Elrond looked at Legolas in utter shock they found him looking sadly at his father, all hope now gone from his teary eyes.

"Legolas, we have no idea what this might do when used on an actual patient. At best it has some kind of reaction, at worst it could kill him," Elrond told him carefully, getting the sense that one wrong word could destroy the fragile young prince.

"He is dying anyway," Legolas said quietly. "Look at him, Elrond, he won't last much longer and you know it. Give him the antidote and we might at least give him a chance." There was such despair in Legolas' voice that neither Elrond nor Aragorn could summon the words to either challenge or comfort Legolas. It was Aragorn though who broke the silence.

"It is a huge risk, Legolas. We should try it on someone less…important first."

"If we have learned anything from this, Estel, it is that this disease does not discriminate between rank. Ada is just as sick as any other Elf in Mirkwood. The cure, or whatever it is, will have the same effect on him as any servant or healer you test it on." Aragorn couldn't argue with that.

Elrond could though. "Legolas, Thranduil is Royalty. Your people need him."

"They do but he is no good to them dead. And he is no good to them as he is now. Give him the cure," Legolas said.

"Legolas…"

"Elrond. Give him the cure," Legolas repeated, his voice firm, indicating to Elrond that none of his arguments would make any difference and that he had just given an order not a request. Slowly, he nodded and walked up to Thranduil almost cautiously. Looking at the king now, Elrond was struck by just how frail he was. He saw that in Legolas also but the younger Elf was somehow managing to stay on his feet – by sheer force of will.

He sighed sadly. "Aragorn, can you please tip his head back a little," Elrond instructed and his son did so as the healer tipped the possible cure down the King's throat. Luckily, Thranduil swallowed on a reflex; ingesting all the liquid he was given.

For a minute all three held their breath, half expecting something to happen suddenly and for the King to shoot up out of bed and be miraculously cured. Nothing happened though and even Elrond was a little defeated by this.

"Now what?" Aragorn asked quietly, cutting through both the silence and the tension.

"Now we wait," Elrond answered looking to Legolas who was gripping his father's hand tightly. The healer walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Legolas turned dull blue eyes to him. "Why don't you go back to sleep for a while?" he said gently.

Legolas smiled sadly. "Thank you, Elrond but I don't think I could get back to sleep. Although if Ada is not likely to wake in the next hour I should go and see my people. I fear I have been neglecting them somewhat of late."

"I would advise against it if I thought it would make any difference," Elrond laughed gently. "Take it easy. I'll send for you if anything changes."

"Thank you, Elrond," Legolas said looking to his father one last time.

"I'll come with you," Aragorn smiled, following Legolas out the open door.

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**Translations:**

**Ada - **Dad


	20. Good Advice

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate your comments. Enjoy the next chapter.**

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**Chapter 20 ~ Good Advice**

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Legolas was standing next to yet another burning funeral pyre, sadly watching it turn into ashes. There had been ten huge pyres so far and it was getting no easier to watch or for the people having to light them. One servant walked past Legolas and stopped, looking at him in utter despair, her black veil disguising her features. Legolas said nothing but placed a hand on the Elf's stooped shoulder in a feeble act of comfort. The young Elf nodded and walked silently away, her head hung low. Legolas looked around him to see all the faces of the people; they all looked the same – exhausted, in pain and grieving for the deaths of people close to them. It disheartened Legolas even more to see Gimli out among the Elves, ceaselessly helping them chop wood for the pyres. Even he – the proud, unflappable Gimli - had his head bowed in sad contemplation.

Aragorn interrupted Legolas' sad observation of his people via a hand on his shoulder.

"Mellon nin, it's cold out here. Come back inside."

"Look at them, Estel," Legolas' voice was trembling and weak and could hardly be heard even in the eerie silence.

"I see them, mellon nin. Come on, come inside. You don't need to be out here," he answered gently, putting his arm around Legolas' shoulders and leading the unsteady prince through the doors, held open for them by a servant, and into the entrance hall of the palace. Legolas leaned slightly against Aragorn for support, too tired to even attempt to hold onto his usually strong pride. Not that the man minded at all, he was happy to do anything to help his friend, even if it meant acting as a crutch when needed.

Almost instinctively they headed towards the Great Hall so Legolas could check on the state of his people. When the doors were swung open Legolas was confronted with a hoard of fighting and yelling patients.

As soon as Legolas entered though, shouts went up amongst the people and suddenly everything went still and silent. They all stopped fighting amongst themselves and turned in surprise to look at their Prince. Legolas just stood there watching them, a look of disappointment and sadness evident on his pale face.

After a few moments' tense silence, Legolas finally stepped forward, still watching the room carefully.

"My brother, the Crown Prince Rumil is dead. My father, your King, is dying." Murmurs of surprise and despair struck up amidst the crowd at the news of their King's sickness but died down when Legolas continued speaking as strongly as he could through his exhaustion and fear. "Over half of Mirkwood is sick. Nearly three hundred of your kin are dead. As of yet…there is no cure." Legolas' voice was firmer than Aragorn would have expected and every single person in the room was utterly engrossed by it. "I know that you suffer greatly. I suffer with you. You have lost family and friends, just as I have. Know that I am doing everything within my power to help you but I can do nothing if you continue to fight amongst yourselves. This is a time when we must all stick together, not be drawn apart by our petty differences. We cannot fight this if we are divided."

"How can we fight this at all?" a nervous voice called from the crowd although Legolas couldn't see whether it was a healer or a patient.

"By remembering that we are still a strong kingdom. We are a strong people. And that fighting is not going to help in any way. My friends, believe me, I know you are in pain and you have to know that if I could I would take all your pain upon myself if it meant sparing you this horror." This heart-felt declaration was met with an awed, saddened silence. They all knew Legolas was telling the absolute truth, so impassioned were his words. "I know that the sick are nearly overwhelmed by pain and despair. I know the healers are tired and overstretched but I beg of you to keep going or there will be no Mirkwood left." Again, this was met with silence. The tense atmosphere had completely dissipated though, the prince's words effectively calming the people. "If I hear of any more fighting I will have the remaining guards put an immediate stop to it and throw you all into the dungeons for public disorder. Is that understood?" This threat was met with fear and silence and there were nods of agreement in the crowd.

Legolas looked around the room again before turning around to find Aragorn, Elrond and Gimli all watching him. Elrond nodded his approval but Legolas just walked past them and away from the now quiet Great Hall. The three friends went to join him, following silently behind him as he walked slowly through the corridors. Just as Elrond was about to stop him and ask if he was alright Legolas suddenly turned around to face them.

"Elrond, can you please go and check on Ada? And sit with him until there is any change – _if_ there is any change."

"If that's what you want," Elrond smiled reassuringly.

"Gimli, could you please go back out and continue to supervise the funeral pyres?"

"Of course I can, Elf," Gimli said with genuine compassion in his voice, hoarse from uttering so many sympathies to the Elves over the past days.

"Estel, please remain in the Great Hall and do all you can to keep them from killing each other."

"I'll do whatever you need me to do, mellon nin," Aragorn answered gently.

"Thank you all. For everything."

For a moment they all just stared at Legolas. Although the young Elf looked beyond exhausted and increasingly unwell and weak, his voice remained strong and firm. Even when his whole being screamed of the deepest despair Legolas remained completely reliable and in absolute control. Unfortunately, all the relief he had felt from Aragorn's gentle ministrations was now gone and he was back in the thick of it and he despised being there.

Slowly, they peeled off to do as they had been asked and Legolas went towards his own rooms to check on Frodo. He hadn't visited the Hobbits since he had first gotten sick and he felt guilty for neglecting his friends. Knocking gently on his own door before entering, he was surprised to find everyone, including the healer assigned to look after Frodo in Elrond's absence, sound asleep either on the large bed or in the surrounding chairs. He smiled softly to himself despite everything. They all looked so peaceful - a far cry from the chaos in the Great Hall and the rest of Mirkwood. Not wanting to disturb any of them, he decided to leave them while they were peaceful.

As he turned to leave though, Frodo's soft voice stopped him. "Hello," the Hobbit whispered.

Legolas turned around and soundlessly walked over to bed. Frodo was swathed in thick, warm blankets and looked almost cosy wrapped up in them. Pippin was asleep at his side, also under the blankets.

"Hello, Frodo," Legolas whispered back. "How are you feeling?" he asked with a small, reassuring smile.

"A little better. Elrond gave me something earlier," he answered, clearly still sleepy, probably from Elrond's medication. "How about you?"

Legolas smiled again at the Hobbit's unfailing compassion. "Not too bad," he lied. Frodo obviously saw right through this as he sent Legolas a knowing and sceptical look. "I've been better," Legolas revised his answer a little more truthfully. He received a nod from the small being and there followed a somewhat uneasy silence before Legolas finally broke it. "You'll be pleased to know that Elrond thinks he has discovered the cure. It shouldn't be long before we know for certain."

"That's great news," Frodo enthused, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb his friends.

"I'll let you know as soon as we're certain."

"Thank you," Frodo smiled reassuringly. He may not have been in on all the happening of Mirkwood but Frodo could clearly see the pain and despair in the Prince's eyes. "Won't you sit down for a minute?" he asked, concerned that the Elf was going to fall over any second. Legolas was currently bracing himself against the headboard to keep from swaying.

"No, thank you. I can't stay long. I have to get back and check on things in the Great Hall."

"Sit with me for a while, please," Frodo repeated. Legolas looked like he was about to protest and then looked almost desperately around the room for an escape. However, he realised he had no really acceptable excuse so he eventually relented and perched uncomfortably on the edge of his own bed. "You know, when I went to Mount Doom to destroy the Ring, I thought I was going to die," Frodo started quietly, looking down at his folded arms. Legolas was surprised by this confession; he had never heard the Hobbit speak openly about his role in the Quest since his miraculous return from Mordor. "Do you know what got me back to full health?" Legolas shook his head, his eyes fixed on the small but brave being in front of him. "My friends: Strider, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Gandalf, Gimli and you."

"This is a little different from the War, Frodo," Legolas spoke eventually, understanding what the Hobbit was getting at.

"You still need your friends with you. Trust Strider. It worked for me," Frodo smiled thinly, memories of his journey resurfacing.

"I can't rely on Aragorn to pull me through this. Mirkwood can't rely on him. They need me."

"They do." It was a simple statement but Legolas understood what it meant perfectly - he was no good to them like this. He needed help. Only then could he remain strong.

"Thank you, Frodo." Legolas stood up slowly and with what seemed to be a great deal of effort. "Try and get some more rest, my friend. I'll come and speak to you as soon as I know anything more." Frodo nodded sleepily as Legolas left the room as quietly as he had come.

**To Be Continued…**

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**Translations:**

**Mellon nin – **my friend.

**Ada - **Dad


	21. The Fate of the King

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Here's chapter 21 for you. Enjoy.**

**~*~**

**Chapter 21 ~ The Fate Of The King**

**~*~**

Legolas walked slowly back to the Great Hall and reluctantly opened the double doors. Thankfully, the Hall was much quieter by now; the healers and Aragorn seemed to have better control over the patients and were continuing to help as many people as possible with increasingly limited resources. Their faces were consistently sad and tired. A few looked up wearily when Legolas entered and nodded their respects. He nodded back at them and then looked to the patients. There were a few waiting to be seen in the triage section but no where near as many as there had been earlier. The Great Hall was still full to capacity with patients. The healers were sitting amongst them, silent in their own desperation and misery. Most were either already sick or simply exhausted. Legolas knew exactly how they felt because he felt it too – both the sickness and tiredness. He walked over to the lead healer and stood by him until he was finished seeing to the patient he was bending over.

The healer was surprised when he turned around and saw his Prince standing before him. "Your Highness, is everything alright?" He sounded concerned and Legolas wasn't surprised. He couldn't have looked as well as normal.

"How is everything here?" the Prince asked quietly as they walked through the patients.

"Much calmer, my Lord. Your speech was most effective, I think."

"Good." Legolas stopped walking and looked down at a patient covered in a white sheet. He knelt down and pulled the blood-spotted sheet back to reveal the face of a young girl, her face still, cold and pale in death. Staring into her wide but glassy eyes, Legolas tenderly stroked her soft, golden hair out of her face. "She's so young," he muttered brokenly to himself.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" the healer asked in concern, having never seen his Prince show so much emotion in public. It was rather unsettling.

"What was her name?" he asked the worried healer, ignoring the question.

"I don't know, my Lord," the healer answered truthfully. There hadn't been time to note everyone's names down as the healers worked.

"Find out."

"My Lord that might not be…"

"She might have a family that's still alive and worrying about her. They deserve to know the truth. Find out her name and then get all these people just sitting around doing nothing to begin identifying these patients. I want names and direct kin if possible."

"But Prince…"

"It wasn't a request," Legolas uncharacteristically snapped. He rarely used his positions to shout out orders and when it was necessary it was always calmly and kindly. However, the stress of the past days had taken their toll on even his patience. He turned back to the little girl and respectively replaced the sheet over her. He stood up, leaving the healer standing a little stunned, and left the room.

The next place Legolas headed for was his father's healing room. He walked slowly though, trailing his hand along the wall simply because he didn't entirely trust his legs to hold him up much longer and soon, as he expected, his mind no longer had control over his body and he desperately gripped the wall to remain upright, willing his head to stop spinning. He took deep breaths against the nausea as Elrond had instructed him earlier and closed his eyes. He instantly regretted this last action though as images of the dead again assaulted him. Feeling his stomach churning even more ominously, he forced himself to open his eyes and ignore the thousands of stars that filled his vision and threatened to overbalance him, not wanting a repeat of the incident in the bathroom to occur here in the middle of a public corridor.

When his head had finally ceased spinning and his legs could again move as commanded, Legolas took his hands away from the wall and stood up straight. Looking around him to check no one had seen his moment of weakness he straightened out his tunic, pulled his robe further around him and walked towards his father's healing hall.

As he approached the room he heard a lot of commotion from inside. Thinking the worst had finally happened, he ran forward as fast he could and flung open the door so hard that it nearly cracked the stone on the wall. Bursting into the room, Legolas immediately looked to his father, ignoring the others crowded around.

"Ada?" He ran towards the bed.

"Legolas." Elrond grabbed the prince and pulled him back before he could reach Thranduil.

"Ada. What's wrong?" Legolas frantically demanded of Elrond, looking to his father again.

"Nothing's wrong, mellon nin. He's fine," Elrond smiled gently. "Look, Legolas. He's fine." Elrond finally moved out of the way and allowed Legolas to see his father. Amazingly, Thranduil was awake, although still looking rather sick and extremely pale. However, he smiled brightly upon seeing his son. Elrond released the prince and let him go to his father.

"Ada," Legolas whispered shakily, walking unsteadily over to his father.

"Ion nin," Thranduil croaked. "Come here." Thranduil held out his hand to his son and Legolas obediently came to him as if he had absolutely no control over his movements; it was almost mechanical. "My son," the King smiled. Legolas all but threw himself onto his father and Thranduil placed his arms around his son, who was sobbing pitifully into his father's nightshirt.

"Ada," Legolas cried desperately, his arms holding onto Thranduil as tightly as possible as though afraid he might suddenly leave or slip back into his unnatural sleep.

"It's alright. I'm here now," Thranduil reassured his son in a soothing whisper, tears in his own eyes at seeing his youngest son in such a terrible state. When he heard this, Legolas cried even harder in utter relief. For so long he had been unsure of his father's fate, now that he knew Thranduil was alright he could release all his fears on the King safe in the knowledge that he was on the mend and Legolas was no longer solely responsible for the kingdom. "Shhh, shh, it's alright," Thranduil whispered weakly, stroking Legolas' hair in comfort.

Unnoticed to Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli and Gandalf were also in the room. Elrond had summoned them when he learned the cure had worked. They were all stood silently watching the heart-breaking scene unfolding before them. Even the Dwarf had tears in his eyes.

Elrond finally walked over to the bed and placed a firm hand on Legolas' trembling shoulder. He didn't even look up but continued crying into his father's chest; he couldn't have stopped even if he had wanted to. Elrond spoke anyway. "I'll go and replicate the cure and start dispensing it." He rubbed Legolas' back when he could do nothing but whimper in response. "It's alright, mellon nin. You just take your time," Elrond said gently to Legolas, who nodded but still didn't remove himself from his father. "We'll be right outside if you need us," he said, rubbing his hand reassuringly over Legolas' back one last time before stepping back.

"Thank you," Thranduil said softly when his son still didn't say anything. Elrond merely smiled knowingly.

"Let's leave them alone for a while," the Elven Lord discreetly prompted the others to leave the room. They nodded and left the King of Mirkwood to comfort his son. Elrond was the last to leave and closed the door quietly behind him.

Aragorn sighed softly once the door was closed. "Do you think Thranduil will be alright?" he asked Elrond.

"Everything looks good so far. Keep an eye on him, let me know if anything changes but don't disturb them for a while if you don't have to."

"Poor Legolas," Gimli said softly to himself.

"Yes, quite. I fear these past days have taken their toll on our young prince. He will need you all before long," Gandalf said pointedly, looking directly at Aragorn.

"Well, I'm not leaving any time soon. I still haven't had a proper tour of this place," the Dwarf grumbled. The others just smiled, knowing Gimli was just as dedicated to Legolas as any of them even if he didn't show it in the same way.

"I had better start with this cure. Gandalf, I would appreciate your help. Estel and Gimli, stay here just in case you are needed. Let me know if you need anything." With that, Elrond and Gandalf left. The two remaining friends sat down on the chairs which had been positioned outside some time ago and waited.

Legolas' sobs had finally died down but he was still crying silently onto his father's chest and Thranduil was still comforting him as best he could through gentle gestures and soft words. Eventually, Legolas composed himself enough to sit up. He looked down at his father, who was smiling gently up at him.

"I'm sorry, Ada. You must still be so tired. I didn't mean to…"

"Shhh." Thranduil placed his hand on Legolas' wet cheek. "Come here." Thranduil pulled the trembling prince into another hug, stroking his son's flaxen hair back.

**To Be Continued…**

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**Translations**

**Ada – **Dad

**Mellon nin – **My friend

**Ion nin – **My son


	22. The Fate of the Prince

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created**.**

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 22 ~ The Fate of the Prince**

**~*~**

Elrond and Gandalf were sitting in Elrond's healing room making as much of the cure as they possibly could, knowing there was a lot of patients to treat. Luckily, the Elven healer kept meticulous records when he was working so it wasn't difficult to replicate it and the herbs it required were fairly common and they still had a large enough supply of them in Mirkwood. Elrond couldn't help but feel a huge amount of relief as he mixed the herb leaves into the liquid. Finally, they were having some luck with this.

"Is that it?" Gandalf asked when Elrond handed him a large pitcher of the healing liquid.

"That's it," Elrond said. "Just a couple of sips per person should do it. If the King's reaction is anything to go by once it's administered it will only take a couple of hours to work. Hopefully we should be able to treat everyone in Mirkwood fairly quickly."

"Good work," Gandalf congratulated with a pat on Elrond's back.

"Thank you, mellon nin. I'll start in the Great Hall. You go through all the other rooms and administer it. Make sure you treat everyone, including the healers. Even those who aren't visibly sick might be carrying the disease. This will kill it; hopefully stop it from spreading further. I'll go and treat Frodo and the other Hobbits while I'm there."

"Good luck," Gandalf smiled before Elrond left the room. The Elven Lord went straight to Legolas' private rooms where Frodo and the other Hobbits remained. He went straight in to find the healer he had left with them trying to reassure a worried Merry, Pippin and Sam but they all looked up when Elrond entered and Sam dashed forward.

"Elrond, thank goodness you've come. I think he's getting worse," Sam said urgently.

Elrond merely smiled and said, "Worry not, Sam. I have found the cure." He walked up to the bed and lifted Frodo's head off the pillow. The Hobbit, like Thranduil, had been in a deep sleep but luckily he could still swallow. He took the medication without fuss and the healer laid him back down gently. "There. He should be alright in a few hours, although don't expect miracles, it could be some time before everything returns completely to normal. For now just watch him and come and find me if you need me. Oh, and you all need to take this." Elrond handed each of the Hobbits and the healer a small vial of the cure. "Thranduil complained it made him feel a little 'strange' so I recommend you all sit down and take it easy for a while."

"Thank you, Elrond," Sam grinned, looking happily at Frodo, who was already stirring in his sleep.

"You are very welcome. Now, all of you get some proper rest. It's been a long few days for you all." Elrond turned to the healer and said, "When you feel ready I would appreciate your help in the Great Hall. Sit down for a while though before you come." The healer nodded and bowed to his Lord. "Right, I had better start handing this out." Elrond left the three Hobbits to again look after their companion.

Elrond approached the Great Hall with much less trepidation than he had done before. In fact, a smile graced his lips when he pulled open the doors to reveal all the people he had been trying to help for so long. Now he could finally do that and honestly he was rather proud of himself.

He stood at the doors and addressed the entire hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have some good news for you. We have found the cure." A wild cheer of relief went up amongst the people and Elrond smiled. "I realise you have all suffered greatly but I must ask you to be patient a little longer. The healers will treat the sickest first then those of you who remain will be given the cure. I must stress that there is more than enough for everyone and you will all be seen to eventually, you have my word." This seemed to go down remarkably well. Apparently, now there was some hope, the people of Mirkwood were satisfied to wait their turn, for which Elrond was extremely grateful. A riot would have helped no one right then. Things began happening immediately. The healers took Elrond's cure and began distributing it according to his instructions. Those patients who were well enough also started helping, eager to get the task done. Elrond suddenly felt rather redundant. Sensing he had nothing to do he left the healers to it and walked back to the Royal healing room to check on the prince.

Aragorn and Gimli were still sitting patiently outside the door.

"Is everything alright in there?" Elrond asked as he reached the two self-appointed guards, who both stood as he approached.

"I checked on them a minute ago but Legolas was still…He needed some more time," Aragorn said carefully.

"Well, he'll come out when he's ready." In a moment of perfect timing, the door slowly opened, revealing a tired, teary-eyed Legolas. He smiled weakly when he saw his friends. "Legolas how are you? How is Thranduil?" Elrond asked, placing his hand on the prince's arm.

"He is sleeping again. Have you given the cure out?"

"The healers are currently treating everyone in the Great Hall and Gandalf is working through the other healing halls. Everything is going well. Right now though, I want to make sure you are alright. I'll feel much better once I have also given you the cure and I know that you are out of danger."

"But I need to go to the Great Hall and…"

"Trust me, I've just come from there and everything is fine. At the moment I fear we will only be in the way. Come, let us go to your father's chambers and you can lie down for a while."

"I…"

"Legolas, we have already been through this. You can take some time to look after yourself now everything's going back to normal," Aragorn said.

"Normal? Do you really think we can ever go back to normal?" Legolas shouted, suddenly losing control of his fear and anger. "Half of my people are dead, more could yet die. My father is sick and my own brother is dead. How can we _ever _go back to normal?" This stunned everyone into guilty silence. Legolas was right. Nothing would ever be the same again. Mirkwood was in ruins, Legolas' own family was left in tatters and who were they to deceive Legolas about the true impact of this disease? The Prince knew better than all of them the horror and pain of what had happened in his own kingdom.

"I'm sorry, Legolas. I didn't mean…"

"No it's not your…I'm sorry. I just…" He cut himself off with a sigh of frustration, not having the words to continue. Aragorn nodded understandingly.

"Come on, Legolas. Let's get you somewhere warm and quiet so you can lie down for a while. You're absolutely exhausted and you really need to rest," Elrond said softly, interrupting the friends' moment. "Come on," he repeated gently to Legolas, taking his arm and leading him towards Thranduil's rooms – the only place in the palace still completely free from the sick.

Suddenly, the corridor seemed to dim before Legolas' eyes and the floor seemed to shrink away from him as though it no longer wanted him to stand upright. In blind panic, the prince grabbed for the first thing he could get hold of, which just happened to be a slightly startled Elrond. The Elven Lord dashed to catch him in his arms when he felt Legolas grab at him. Carefully, he lowered the prince to the floor and in an instant everyone was gathered around Legolas, who was now lying only semi-conscious in the corridor. He was trembling violently and clutching his stomach in pain. His vision was blurry and darkness was creeping up on him despite his best efforts to concentrate on the voices of his friends and keep it at bay.

"Legolas, can you hear me?" Elrond asked urgently, kneeling down and undoing the prince's collar in a hope to ease his increasingly strained breathing. "Legolas?" Elrond could see the younger Elf was beginning to lose consciousness and tried to bring him back from the darkness. "Legolas, come on, stay with me. Legolas." Elrond shook him lightly; he wanted to keep him conscious if he possibly could, he didn't want Legolas falling into a coma as his father had done before. The prince may well have been too far gone to come back from it.

"Cold," Legolas gasped, shivering slightly.

"We'll get you warm soon, I promise," Aragorn assured him, kneeling down on the opposite side of Legolas. "Just stay with us, mellon nin."

"So cold."

"I know. Just hold on, alright? Let's get you to a room and out of this corridor," he said more to Elrond than Legolas. Elrond nodded his agreement. "Do you think you can stand, Legolas?" he asked softly.

"Cold," Legolas repeated and Aragorn got the distinct impression that he wasn't really with them.

"Alright, mellon nin," Aragorn reassured, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Gimli, run back to the healing room and get a blanket," Elrond requested and Gimli immediately ran into Thranduil's healing room and snatched a blanket from one of the shelves, ignoring the King's questions when he was abruptly woken by the speeding Dwarf. In a minute he was back at Legolas' side, placing the thick blanket gently over his friend. The prince immediately gripped it, pulling it tightly around himself for warmth. "Alright, let's get you out of the corridor, Legolas. Come on, stay with me. Stay awake," Elrond prompted when Legolas started to drift off again.

"Here." Aragorn moved Elrond aside and very carefully picked Legolas up off the floor in strong arms. The prince just lay in Aragorn's arms as he was carried down the corridor, not having the strength or will to protest.

In no time they were at Thranduil's rooms and Elrond opened the door for Aragorn to carry Legolas inside. He entered the bedroom and went to place his precious load on the bed but was stopped short when he saw the healer that had helped Legolas earlier lying still on the bed. He remembered then that he had given her Legolas' keys when she had needed to rest. Elrond wasted no time in walking over to her to wake her. He shook her gently but didn't get any response. Rather cautiously Elrond reached for the healer's wrist and felt for a pulse. He found nothing. The healer was dead. He turned to Aragorn and shook his head.

"Get her off the bed," the man instructed, pushing his sadness aside for the time being, knowing he had more important things to worry about. Elrond lifted the dead healer into his arms and allowed Aragorn to carefully place a half-conscious Legolas on the bed in her place. Elrond moved the healer to the divan in the sitting room and then returned to find Aragorn removing Legolas' thick tunic. The Elf was a little more alert now and was looking up blearily at his friends. Upon removing the tunic Aragorn, Elrond and Gimli got a proper look at what Legolas was suffering. His skin was covered in sores, which had gotten far worse since Aragorn had last seen him. His body was also covered in bruises and he was obviously in a lot of pain and it now showed on his face and body as he was trembling violently – a combination of the pain and the fever the disease caused.

"Oh my…" Gimli exclaimed. He had not really thought Legolas was this bad. The Elf had never really mentioned it.

"Legolas, why didn't you say anything?" Elrond asked sympathetically, sitting on the bed and taking Legolas' shaky hand in his own.

"I don't…There were more important things…" Legolas defended himself weakly.

"What could be more important than your health, you stupid Elf?" Gimli said sternly from the end of the bed.

"My people," Legolas answered simply.

"Alright. It doesn't matter now. Let's get you cleaned up and then give you the cure." Elrond gently placed a hand on Legolas' forehead, finding it still uncomfortably hot. "Let's get you out of these clothes first. Gimli, perhaps you could give us a few moments alone."

"What? No way. I'm not going anywhere," he said, planting his feet firmly on the floor in defiance.

"Gimli, please," Elrond said softly, knowing that if the Dwarf stayed it would just be more uncomfortable for the already greatly distressed Elf. Gimli reluctantly relented and left the bedroom but stood right outside the living room door in case he was needed.

Elrond and Aragorn quickly but gently undressed the trembling Elf being extra careful not to cause him any more pain. Legolas just laid there passively, too tired to be embarrassed or uncomfortable with the closeness of the situation as his friends removed his clothes. Once he was undressed, Elrond pulled a sheet up over the trembling prince and Legolas clung to it, pulling it tight in the hope of keeping some of the warmth it offered. Elrond placed a blanket over him then went to mix together the cure. It didn't take long but Elrond took his time, making sure he got everything absolutely right.

"Alright Legolas, hold on," Elrond said over his shoulder when he heard the young Elf whimper softly and then heard Aragorn whispering reassurances to his friend. Finally, Elrond walked over to the bed, holding a cup containing the cure. "Legolas, I need you to drink this for me. It might make you feel worse for a little while but it will stop the other symptoms and make you feel better soon, alright?" Legolas nodded and tried to push himself into a sitting position but found his weak body simply wouldn't obey him any longer.

"It's alright, mellon nin. Let us help you," Aragorn reassured, sitting on the bed and slipping his arm under Legolas' shoulders and carefully easing him up.

"Here, drink this." Elrond held the cup up to Legolas' pale lips and the prince drank it slowly. When he had finished, Elrond placed the cup on the bedside table and helped Aragorn gently lower Legolas back down onto the bed. The Elf could do nothing but lie there tiredly as Elrond and Aragorn tucked blankets around his naked form, hoping to keep the cold at bay. "There we go. You just get some sleep now, alright?" Elrond soothed as he gently stroked hair, damp from the sweat of a fever, from his face. "Shout for me if you need anything. I'll go and check on your father and make sure everything's going smoothly in the Great Hall."

Elrond and Aragorn walked quietly to the door and looked back at Legolas. "I'm going to stay with him just in case," Aragorn said to his foster father, offering no room for argument or objection and the Elven Lord wisely offered none. "He will be alright, won't he?"

The Elven healer nodded gently. "I just hope we caught it in time." He opened the door to find Gimli impatiently tapping his foot, still waiting to be let back into the room to see his friend. "You can go in now, Gimli, but please try to keep the noise down. No shouting at him just yet, the lectures on his health can wait until he's feeling better. He needs to rest for a while now."

"And who says I'm going to shout at him?" Gimli asked in mock innocence as he stepped past the two Lords to stand next to the bed. "We're just going to have a little discussion, right, Elf?" Legolas smiled weakly, looking across at his Dwarven friend with glassy eyes, knowing he was just teasing Elrond.

The healer just smiled and left the room, silently closing the door behind him. Gimli and Aragorn pulled up chairs and sat down next to the bed. The prince was fighting off impending sleep but Aragorn could clearly see that he was losing the battle through his exhaustion.

"Sleep now," Aragorn commanded gently, reaching over and pulling Legolas' blanket further around him. Legolas nodded gently up at him with a grateful smile, knowing he couldn't have protested even if he had wanted to. He was just too tired now. Besides, things were more controlled and stable now. Elrond and Gandalf were working towards helping Mirkwood's people and his father was out of danger as far as he knew. Although technically he was still in charge of Mirkwood and didn't want to abandon his people he simply couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He found Aragorn and Gimli slowly fading from his sight and he finally succumbed to a much-needed sleep with a gentle sigh of relief.

**To Be Continued…**

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**Translations:**

**Mellon nin – **My friend


	23. True Suffering

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Mirkwood's Plague**

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

**A/N: Thanks so much for reviewing.**

**~*~**

**Chapter 23 ~ True Suffering**

**~*~**

Prince Legolas' two faithful guardians watched the young Elf sleep peacefully but found themselves occasionally slipping off into sleep themselves despite their best efforts to remain awake.

Sometime late during the night Aragorn was woken by the sound of Legolas' harsh coughing. Startled, the man sat up straight in his chair, rubbing sleep from his eyes before looking to his friend. Legolas was covered in sweat and had, at some point, thrown his blankets off and Aragorn noticed the nightshirt they had dressed him in a couple of hours ago was soaked through. He was whimpering gently to himself, almost as if he was trying to keep quiet so as not to wake his two sleeping friends. Aragorn got up from his chair and gently placed his hand on Legolas' forehead, wincing when he felt how hot he was. It seemed in stark contrast to how cold his skin had been earlier.

"Legolas?" Aragorn whispered, attracting his friend's attention. Bright blue glazed eyes only half open focused on Aragorn. "How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting down on the bed beside his friend and taking Legolas' clammy hand in his own. As expected, Legolas didn't answer him or return the gentle squeeze on his hand.

Legolas groaned softly and said, "I think I'm going to…" Thankfully, he didn't need to finish his sentence as Aragorn had already reached down and grabbed a bowl that someone – the same someone who had lit the candles whilst he and Gimli slept – had left on the bedside table. Legolas struggled up as quickly as he could, Aragorn held the bowl in front of him as he vomited into it. The man tenderly rubbed his back and tucked his hair behind his ears as Legolas took deep breaths to stop his stomach from churning.

When he was certain that he wasn't going to be sick again, Legolas sat up straight. "Alright?" Aragorn asked kindly and Legolas nodded. Aragorn placed the bowl back on the bedside table and covered it over before handing Legolas a glass of water. The Elf took it gratefully but Aragorn kept a hold of the glass, as the Prince's grasp didn't look too firm. When he was finished Aragorn replaced the glass and helped Legolas lay back down. Aragorn pulled the sheets back over him and asked, "Feel better?"

"Yes, thank you," Legolas hoarsely replied. When Legolas started coughing harshly again the man handed him a clean handkerchief. He was surprised when Legolas pulled back and the white cloth had spots of bright red blood on it. The Elf didn't seem to notice that he was coughing up blood though as he lowered his hand back to the bed. "Sorry," he whispered tiredly.

"You don't have to apologise," Aragorn smiled gently, putting his hand on Legolas' forehead again, this time in comfort.

"You were sleeping," Legolas said tiredly, closing his eyes.

"You could have woken me if you needed me."

"You looked tired."

"Did Elrond come by?" Aragorn asked, looking once more at the lit candles that helped give the room a warm, comfortable glow.

"Only for a moment," he replied tiredly, opening his eyes and looking up at the man. "My father's better. Elrond said he was already sitting up and talking."

"That's good," Aragorn smiled, stroking Legolas' hair again, knowing it soothed the prince. "That's really good."

"I don't suppose you'll allow me to go and see him?" Legolas asked hopefully.

Aragorn smiled, "You need to rest right now, Legolas. You will get to see your father soon, alright? For now you need to concentrate on getting yourself better. Try not to worry about anything else for the moment."

"Is Gimli alright?" the prince asked, his gaze drifting lazily to the Dwarf who was snoring loudly in the chair beside the bed. He hadn't been woken by the friends' talking, which was hardly surprising. Legolas knew he had been up watching him for a while and the past few days had taken their toll on him – on all of them.

"He's fine…except for the bone-rattling snoring," Aragorn chuckled. Legolas merely smiled weakly but it was good enough for Aragorn; just to see his friend smiling was something.

"And you?"

"Legolas, don't worry about me, alright? I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about. You really had me worried." Legolas smiled at his friend but it turned into a grimace when pain assailed him once more. Aragorn, of course, noticed this and went to reach for the bowl but Legolas stopped him with a quiet, "I'm alright."

"Why don't you go back to sleep, mellon nin? You look exhausted."

"You should heed your own advice," Legolas whispered, turning shocking blue eyes to Gimli. "And so should he. I'm sure there is a spare room somewhere."

"You never stop, do you? I am going to stay right here with you as long as you need me, understand?" Aragorn said firmly, taking Legolas' hand in his own, noticing the tears that had formed in the beautiful blue eyes. "It's going to be alright," he said softly. Legolas fought for control but sobs soon choked his throat and Aragorn moved carefully closer to him. "Hey, hey, it's alright." Gently, Aragorn pulled the young prince close to him and allowed Legolas to cry onto his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," Aragorn said through his own tears. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all this." He felt Legolas nod against his shoulder and stroked his back gently.

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, Legolas went completely limp in Estel's arms and the man sat up straight, desperately trying to feel whether Legolas was breathing or not. "Gimli! Gimli!" Aragorn shouted to wake the Dwarf.

"What happened?" the Dwarf asked urgently, jumping up from his chair.

"Go get Elrond. Now!" he shouted. Gimli ran from the room, frantically searching for Elrond whilst Aragorn gently laid Legolas back down on the bed. He felt his neck for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he found one, no matter how weak it was. Legolas was still breathing but it was shallow and strained, almost as if his body could barely find the strength to keep itself alive anymore.

"Legolas, wake up," Aragorn demanded, shaking his friend gently. "Come on, mellon nin, stay with me, please." Tears formed in Aragorn's eyes as he thought that Legolas might not survive this after all. The prince had been holding on for so long, maybe his shattered body just couldn't do it any more. "Don't give in, Legolas, not yet. You have to fight this. You have to fight." As he said this Elrond pushed through the door, followed by a frantic looking Gimli.

"What happened?" the Elven Lord calmly asked, immediately coming over to the bed and looking down at Legolas, who was just regaining consciousness.

"I don't know. Ada, please do something," Aragorn pleaded, not ready to lose his best friend, not after everything that had happened.

"Alright Aragorn, calm down," Elrond said although he could hear the tension and slight panic in his own voice. "Now, tell me what happened."

"I woke up and he was just lying there, covered in sweat and he said he felt sick and he was coughing, and there was blood, Ada," Aragorn said in a rush, picking up the bloodied handkerchief and showing it to Elrond. "Then he just passed out. It's the disease, isn't it? He hasn't been cured."

"But I thought you said you had found the cure," Gimli accused.

"I did," the Elven Lord said rather defensively although he did notice there had been no improvement to the bruises that marred Legolas' skin.

"Maybe you didn't give him enough. He was exposed to the disease more than anyone else. Perhaps he just needs a stronger dose," Aragorn suggested.

"Estel, we have no idea what might happen if we give him more of that potion. It could make the side-effects even worse. People are suffering enough with just one dose, let alone two."

"Do you have a better idea?" the man asked and for a moment the room was silent, indicating the answer was 'no'. "He's dying, Ada. We don't have a choice."

"Alright," Elrond sighed, recognising there was no other option. He pulled out a vial of the cure and measured out the right amount and poured it into a glass. "Here Legolas, drink this for me," he said, lifting Legolas' head from the pillow and allowing him to drink the green liquid. Legolas drank passively and Elrond gently laid his head back down. "Come on now. After everything that you've been through you can fight this. One last hurdle then it's all over," Elrond whispered, tenderly stroking Legolas' hot forehead. Unfocused eyes were only half open as Legolas looked up tiredly at Elrond. "Look at all these people. Fight for them," Elrond told him. More tears slipped past the prince's shattered defences. "I know," Elrond soothed sympathetically. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright now. Mirkwood is already beginning to recover. The cure is working wonders. People are already starting to look better, including Frodo and your father." Elrond didn't mention those patients too far gone to help; those for who the cure was useless. They were still dying and all he could do was make it as painless as possible, not easy due to the lack of resources. He just hoped the same thing wasn't true of Legolas.

"Aragorn, stay here with him and let me know if there are any changes. I need to check that the King is alright," Elrond said to his son. "Let him sleep if he wants to. The rest will do him good. I'll be back soon."

"You don't think the cure's working on him, do you?" Aragorn asked, his voice cracking at the mere thought of losing his friend.

"I don't know. No one else is displaying further signs of the infection; only side-effects of the cure. I gave him a potent dose and this could just be a bad reaction to it."

"Ada, Legolas doesn't have the strength to fight this. Look at him. He's beyond exhausted; he can barely keep his eyes open. If he needs to fight we're going to have to help him. He won't be able to do it on his own."

Elrond looked down at Legolas, lying there gently whimpering to himself with Gimli holding his hand in an unprecedented display of affection for his friend. Years of healing training came flooding back to him: what to do to help someone fight an illness. It was never easy but it was possible. It would be even more difficult for Legolas seeing as Elrond had no real idea about what they were dealing with. However, the symptoms were fairly standard: fever, pain, sickness. All were signs of infection and that was how Elrond would treat it.

"Ada," Aragorn prompted after Elrond didn't respond to his comments.

Elrond snapped from his thoughts, suddenly knowing what they had to do. "Aragorn, I need cold water and lots of towels, more blankets and some warm water spiked with Athelas. Gimli, you just keep doing what you're doing. I still have to check in on Thranduil. I'll be back in a minute. Go, Aragorn." Aragorn rushed out to do as he was told.

When Elrond also left, Gimli found himself alone with Legolas again and once more his gaze was drawn to the family portrait hanging over the fireplace. The one his friend seemed to dislike so much. Gimli found it hard to imagine Legolas ever being a child untainted by the evils of the world, especially looking at the shaking form he was now confronted with. He wondered whether there would ever again be such a happy picture of the now shattered family. He found it hard to believe.

Turning his attention back to Legolas he noticed the Elf had his eyes closed although didn't appear to be asleep.

"Don't even think about giving up, Elf," Gimli said in his usual gruff voice. "You won't be able to avoid me, you know. You know me better than that, so you have to get well again because if you don't I'll kill you, you hear?" Legolas opened his eyes and looked over at Gimli with glassy eyes. "Yes, you hear me, don't you?" Legolas smiled weakly and his hand tightened slightly on Gimli's in affirmation. "Now you listen to me, Elf, you pull through this or you'll have me to answer to. Who am I going to tease and annoy if you leave? Hmmm? Aragorn's no fun now he's King." Gimli paused when Legolas' eyes shut with an exhausted sigh. "I know you're tired, Elf but Aragorn…he needs you to be alright. _I _need you to be alright." Gimli's voice was surprisingly choked and Legolas looked up to find him wiping away the tears that were forming in his eyes. The Dwarf laughed gruffly at being caught in the act. "Let's not get all soppy. We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't want that," Legolas whispered with a ghost of a smile.

The moment was broken by Legolas' coughing. Gimli grabbed a clean handkerchief from the table and handed it to the prince with a surprisingly gentle, "Here, Legolas." The coughing subsided just as Aragorn returned to the room carrying everything Elrond had requested on a large silver tray. He placed it on a table and walked back over to Legolas, who was still trying to catch his breath again.

"How are you doing?" Aragorn asked gently.

"How do you come up with such stupid questions?" Gimli replied when Legolas couldn't find the strength to answer himself. This elicited a small smile from the Elf and Aragorn laughed at the Dwarf's antics; at least they lightened the mood a little.

Elrond entered the room and all eyes turned to him. He carried three mugs of steaming herbal tea with him. "Thirsty, Elrond?" Gimli asked jokingly, earning him a stern look from the Elven Lord. He handed one mug to Aragorn and another to Gimli.

"Do excuse us, Legolas," Elrond said to the prince before taking a long sip of his tea, almost as though he was preparing himself for the task ahead. Legolas just nodded, too tired to say anything to Elrond.

It took Legolas a moment to build up enough strength to talk. "You should all go and get some rest. There is a divan in the other room." His voice was hardly strong, in fact little more than a whisper, but it held Legolas' familiar kindness.

"Don't worry about us. We need to sort you out first," Elrond answered, smiling gently down at Legolas. When their cups were empty, Elrond said, "Alright, let's see if we can make you feel a little better." Legolas once more had his eyes closed although not in sleep. Elrond understood that feeling: being desperately tired but not being able to drift off into sleep. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could give Legolas for he had no idea how it would react with the cure. Gently, the healer placed his hand on Legolas' forehead to find that his temperature remained worryingly high. He turned to Aragorn and said, "First we need to bring his temperature down." Aragorn nodded in understanding. The man took the clean cloths and the bowl of ice-cold water. It was a cruel way to bring down a fever but it was the quickest and most efficient way. "Gimli, feel free to wait outside if you want but we could use your help if you feel up to it."

"Then I'll stay. Just tell me what to do," Gimli said firmly.

"We need to get his clothes off first," Elrond instructed.

They pulled the mass of blankets and sheets off, ignoring Legolas when he started shivering and trying to grasp the sheets. "I'm sorry but we need to do this to bring your fever down," Elrond explained as he began unbuttoning Legolas' nightshirt and Aragorn removed his light trousers. Although Legolas whimpered pitifully he didn't try to stop them. Elrond suspected that this was more because he lacked the strength rather than the will. He did understand how the Elf felt. This was never pleasant. As Elrond continued to undress Legolas he instructed Gimli, "Soak those cloths in the cold water. Make sure they are properly wet." The Dwarf nodded and did as he was told as he listened to Legolas' weak groans. "Alright, Legolas," Elrond reassured kindly.

When he asked for them Gimli handed Elrond and Aragorn a well-soaked cloth each. Without hesitation they placed the cloths on Legolas exposed skin. The Elf immediately cried out but they ignored it.

Tears slid from Legolas' eyes and Elrond placed a cold, damp cloth on forehead. "Cold," Legolas whimpered, his teeth actually chattering.

"I know. It'll be over soon. Just hold on, alright? Gimli, we need that other cloth," Elrond said over Legolas' cries. Gimli walked up to the bed but couldn't bring himself to cause pain to his already suffering friend. Seeing his reluctance Aragorn took the cloth from him and placed it on Legolas without hesitation.

"Please, Aragorn. Please don't," Legolas tried.

"I'm sorry, Legolas, but it's the only way," Aragorn said, taking Legolas' hand.

The prince was fully awake and alert now but that didn't matter, he could sleep later when his temperature was under control. They hated doing this but it really was the only way and they ignored Legolas' pleas for them to stop.

"I know, mellon nin. I know," Aragorn muttered gently, keeping hold of Legolas' hand. "I know." The man allowed Legolas to reach up and hold onto him, a desperate need for contact through his pain and discomfort. He held him tightly back as Legolas buried his face in Aragorn's robes, ignoring the fact that his own clothes were now soaked through. "Shhh, I know it hurts but we have to do it, mellon nin. We have to do it," Aragorn said in little more than a whisper, hoping it might calm his friend.

While Legolas was distracted Elrond took the cloths away, soaked them in the freezing cold water and replaced them, causing Legolas to shout out as cold met hot. Aragorn felt Legolas' cheek, wet with sweat and tears, and was disheartened to find that his fever hadn't cooled at all. It should have changed a little bit by now. Obviously what they were doing wasn't enough.

"Ada, this isn't working," Aragorn said urgently.

Elrond stopped to think for a moment before turning to Gimli. "I need you to run me a cold bath. As cold as possible."

"You're not serious," Gimli gasped.

"Now, Gimli," Elrond ordered. The longer they waited the more dangerous it was for Legolas. Although with a look of apprehension, Gimli did as he was told and Elrond moved to sit next to Legolas on the now uncomfortably wet bed and made sure the Elf's attention was focused on him. "Legolas, we need to get your fever down but this isn't working. We need to submerge you in cold water." Legolas looked up at the healer in what could only be described as utter disbelief. "It's going to be painful but I promise you it will help." Legolas looked unconvinced. "You trust me, right?" An exhausted nod. "Right then please trust that I know what I'm doing. Can you do that?" Legolas nodded and laid his head back on the pillow as though he didn't have the strength to hold it up any longer. "Alright, let's get you to the bath."

"I can walk," Legolas murmured. Aragorn and Elrond helped him sit up, sliding a blanket over his shoulders and walked unsteadily into the bathroom.

Elrond took the blanket from him and Legolas leaned on them for support as he stepped into the cold water. Reluctantly, but with grim determination, he sat down, wincing as the cold enveloped his body. Aragorn and Elrond grabbed his arms when the shock of it nearly forced him beneath the water and Legolas himself grabbed the edges of the bath.

"It's alright, Legolas, let go. We've got you," Elrond kindly said and Legolas obediently released his hold allowing his two friends to hold his weight as he forced himself to immerse his arms in the water. "Gimli, I need you to pour water over his head. Gimli," Elrond snapped when the Dwarf didn't respond.

"Right." He did as he was told but regretted it when Legolas cried out.

"Keep going," Aragorn told him.

Elrond was watching Legolas' face carefully and could see that he was beginning to get disoriented; the first sign of shock. That most definitely was not what they wanted. In the Prince's tired eyes he could also see the barely disguised tears of pain and desperation. "Look at me," he commanded. "Legolas, look at me." Dull eyes met bright brown. "I need you to focus on me and try and stay with me, alright?" He moved his hand and stroked Legolas' soaking wet hair tenderly. "Alright?" Legolas gave him a tired nod, accompanied by a poorly stifled sob. "It's alright." Again he saw Legolas fighting for control, obviously not wanting to lose his dignity in front of his friends. "It's alright. Hey, Legolas, come on, it's alright." Another cry escaped the prince's lips. Although this seemed strange to Gimli, Aragorn understood that Elrond was trying to help keep Legolas focused and also have something to use as a marker that something was going wrong. "I know it's painful," Elrond said softly, still stroking Legolas' hair gently. "You can scream if you think it will help," Elrond joked.

Legolas smiled and let out a small, choked laugh. "I might have to," he whispered through chattering teeth.

Elrond smiled understandingly. "You do whatever you need to to stay with us, alright? We won't hold it against you. I remember Aragorn screaming like a baby when he broke his wrist after foolishly jumping off a waterfall in Rivendell one time." He was trying to take Legolas' mind off the pain, hoping to make this slightly easier on him.

"Hmm, and that was only last month," Aragorn added, causing Legolas to laugh at the man, who was partially holding him up. Laughing turned into coughing though.

"It's alright. It's just a reaction to the cure, that's all," Elrond reassured. "Remember when we talked about letting your body do what it needs to?" Legolas nodded and stopped trying to resist what was happening and so the coughing subsided eventually. "There, it's alright," Elrond said gently, stroking Legolas' forehead. He was pleased to find that his temperature was falling. Legolas leaned his head back tiredly against the arms holding him up and closed his eyes. "No, Legolas. Come on, you need to stay awake for me."

"Tired," Legolas whispered.

"I know you are. You've been through so much and I know you want to go to sleep right now but you need to stay with us just a little longer. Do you think you can do that?" Legolas lifted his head and nodded, forcing his eyes open. "That's it. Well done."

"We're almost finished, Legolas, then you can sleep for the next month if you want," Aragorn smiled.

"That's what I'm going to do," Gimli grinned.

"I said he could sleep, not you," the man teased.

"You just try and stop me. Maybe I'll have dinner first though. I've only had one good meal since I got here."

"And who says we'll feed you?"

"Now look what you've done, Legolas. You've started them off," Elrond smiled at Legolas, who he sensed wasn't really listening to the argument. "It's alright," he said gently when silent tears began to fall. "Shhh, shhh, shh."

"Please Elrond, I'm so tired," Legolas whispered despairingly, his voice heard even above the other two who were still comically arguing their cases.

"Believe me, I know you are. But you need to stay with us for just a little while longer. Can you do that for me, hmmm?" A small nod. "Alright." Another barely restrained sob escaped Legolas' throat but he caught himself when the noise interrupted Aragorn's and Gimli's argument. This didn't go unnoticed by Elrond. "Can you two please wait in the bedroom for a moment?" he said softly, putting his arm further around Legolas so he had a better hold on him.

"But…" Aragorn started to argue.

"_Please,_" Elrond stressed, telling them both he needed some time alone with Legolas.

"We'll be right outside," Aragorn said, letting go of Legolas and standing, dragging a protesting Gimli along behind him and leaving the room without a fuss.

Once the door was closed Elrond leaned closer to Legolas, stroking his hair again in an almost parental display of affection and reassurance.

"Alright, it's just you and me now," he said kindly. "For the past few days you have had to be in control and show others that you are in control and I know how hard that's been on you, especially without your father or brother to help you. But you don't have to be in control any more and I need you to be focused on this right now, alright? That's the only way you're going to beat this thing. So it's alright to let go now, alright?"

Tears fell from Legolas' eyes but he shook his head, his teeth still chattering with cold.

"Do you honestly think you could do or say anything that I haven't seen or heard a thousand times before? I've been a healer for a long time and I understand why people like to stay in control. But you are not alone in this. Come on, it's alright. Just let go," Elrond said gently, stroking Legolas' hair still.

Legolas looked to the door with a small sob. "They don't have to know. We'll tell them we discussed hunting or something." Legolas half-laughed at this. "Let's pretend this is all over and that you don't have to be strong any more." Legolas looked into Elrond's wise brown eyes and saw only kindness there.

"You don't have to be strong anymore," he whispered. Again, Legolas shook his head defiantly, only this time it was coupled with a heart-breaking whimper that he just couldn't stop. "It's alright to cry if you need to," Elrond said.

Another sob followed by another until Legolas couldn't stop or fight them anymore. "It's alright," Elrond soothed, pulling the distraught Elf closer to him and engulfing him in warm arms. Gripping onto Elrond's robes Legolas cried out every horrible thing he had seen and done in the past few days.

Elrond just held him back, whispering gentle reassurances to him and soothingly rubbing his trembling back. He knew that despite their unwavering friendship, Legolas would never be this open in front of Gimli and that was exactly what he needed right then: a distraction; something to keep him focused on the now, even if it was a heart-breaking emotional reaction. Elrond would rather have this distressing scene than have the young Elf focused on the pain and tiredness and lose consciousness.

Legolas cried despairingly into Elrond and the healer just continued his reassurances, checking his forehead every now and then to see how the fever was.

"I'm so sorry," Legolas said between sobs, apologising for his lack of control.

"Shh. Don't you ever apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"It's too much, Elrond."

"I know it is. It's an enormous relief for it to all be over, I understand that. But you're not doing this alone any more. I'm not going to leave until all this is completely resolved. From now on you just let me and Gandalf handle everything, alright?" A sob issued from Legolas and Elrond checked his temperature to find it was now considerably lower. "Let me worry about everything now. I don't want you even thinking about it. You just concentrate on getting yourself better."

Legolas' cries were dying down now but Elrond kept a hold of him just in case. "Better?" he asked with a sympathetic smile. Legolas turned his head, still resting on Elrond, so he was facing the door and Elrond placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Aragorn and Gimli…"

"They don't need to know about this. Everything that happens in this room stays between you and me. How does that sound?" Legolas nodded and was contented to just sit in Elrond's arms for a moment. "Hey, don't you go to sleep on me just yet," Elrond prompted when he felt Legolas leaning more heavily against him.

"Sorry," Legolas whispered. "I'm so tired."

"Alright. Let's get you out of this water, get you warm and put you to bed."

Legolas nodded tiredly. "Elrond?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't think I can stand up." Tears again fell down Legolas' face.

"That's alright. How about you just sit back and let us do all the work? Aragorn could do with a little exercise, don't you think?" Legolas smiled. "Don't you worry about a thing, mellon nin. Don't worry." They sat there for a moment before Elrond called Aragorn and Gimli back in.

"Is everything alright?" Aragorn asked when he entered the room.

"Everything's fine," Elrond said vaguely, looking down at Legolas, who was lying passively in the bath as Elrond held onto him in a comfortingly firm grip. "How about we get Legolas out of this bath now?" Elrond instructed gently.

"Sure," Aragorn said, walking over to the bath and holding out a warm towel for him. Together, Elrond and Aragorn helped Legolas out of the bath and wrapped him up in a thick towel. They slowly escorted him back into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed.

"Gimli, whilst we get Legolas dressed perhaps you could change these sheets?" Elrond asked and the Dwarf nodded obediently.

"Spare sheets are in the top cupboard," Legolas informed him tiredly. He dried himself off and got changed into the soft cotton nightshirt and trousers Elrond handed him. Without hesitation he slipped beneath the now fresh sheets and pulled them around himself tightly.

Elrond checked his temperature and smiled. "Your fever seems to have abated. The cure must finally be working. Get some sleep now, Legolas. You'll feel much better when you wake up, I promise."

Elrond's voice was gentle and it lulled Legolas into a much-needed healing sleep. Elrond waited until he was sure the prince was sleeping before standing and leading Aragorn and Gimli into the next room so they wouldn't disturb Legolas.

"You two go and get cleaned up, get something to eat and get some sleep. I'll stay here with Legolas for a while. Don't argue, Estel. Go on." Elrond nodded to the doors, daring the two to challenge him. They nodded and quietly left the room, leaving Elrond to look after their friend.

The healer moved back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. He picked up the bowl of warm, Athelas-spiked water and soaked a cloth in it, breathing in the aroma. He gently placed the cloth on Legolas' forehead, hoping it would offer some relief in his sleep. Legolas remained in the land of Elven dreams, not even noticing the healer sat beside him.

Elrond moved to the big chair that Aragorn had previously occupied and gratefully sank down into it. Although he didn't like to admit it, the past few days had taken a lot out of him and as he sat there in the warmth of the room, watching Legolas sleep, he felt himself drifting off.

**To Be Continued…**

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**Translations:**

**Mellon nin – **my friend

**Ada – **Dad

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**A/N: Yes, I know, it was shameless Legolas angst but I couldn't help myself. And it was quite long so I hope that made up for it.**

**Okay, folks, I'm sorry to say that this is the penultimate chapter. One more and it's all over – until the sequel that is. There's an epilogue but that'll be up on Wednesday along with the last proper chapter. I'm just giving you fair warning. Please leave a review. I love getting them.**

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	24. Dark Dreams

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 24 ~ Nightmares**

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It was the dull sunlight filtering through the curtains that woke Elrond from his unintentional sleep. The fire had long since gone out and yet the room remained pleasantly warm. Rubbing his hand over his face, Elrond looked over at Legolas. The young prince was still fast asleep although he had thrown his mass of covers off at some time during the night. Elrond leaned forward and placed his hand lightly on Legolas' forehead. Although still a little warm, his temperature remained at a safe level and already Elrond could see a little colour returning to his previously pale skin. With a smile, Elrond sorted out the sheets, pulling them carefully back up over the sleeping Elf. Legolas shifted in the bed but didn't wake, settling back down into sleep almost immediately.

Elrond sat down on the bed, taking Legolas' weak hand in his own strong one. "My poor friend," he whispered softly. "You've had a rough time of it lately, haven't you? I'm so sorry. There's only one thing I can do for you now."

He calmly picked up a spare pillow from under the bed and held it aloft. "It's time to end your suffering." With that, Elrond slammed the pillow down hard, smothering Legolas' face with the fabric.

Immediately, blue eyes shot open, staring wildly in shock and panic at the figure leaning over him. Tears slipped from his eyes as he tried to push the other Elf off him. Had the Elven Lord gone mad? Had he also been affected by the disease? A thousand thoughts ran through his frantic mind as his lungs burned and screamed for oxygen. He hadn't even had time to take a deep breath before the air was cut off and his body was desperate for it.

His hands futilely tried to fight off the older Elf but he was just too weak and with his diminishing strength it was almost impossible. The Elven Lord was a lot stronger than him and as his struggles died to a useless twitching he felt warm and comforting darkness enveloping him…

~*~

A silent, muffled shout for help turned into a real, loud one as Legolas' eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in bed. For a moment all he could do was gasp in the precious oxygen, relieved beyond belief that there was actually free air to breathe all around him.

The prince's cry had also woken Elrond, who had been dozing in the chair by the bed after keeping his vigil all night long. "What is it? What's wrong?" the elder Elf asked gently, placing a soft hand on Legolas' trembling arm. Tears formed in Legolas' eyes as he struggled not only to control his breathing but also his shattered emotions. Seeing his panic and difficulties drawing breath, Elrond soothed, "It's alright. Just breathe; nice and slowly in and out." Achingly slowly, Legolas' breathing evened out and Elrond pulled him gently into his arms. "It's alright, mellon nin, it was just a nightmare."

The young prince leaned heavily against Elrond, wrapping his arms around the Lord's strong form, desperate for comfort. The younger Elf was still trembling slightly, from fear as much as from the icy chill that ran through him.

Although he felt better than he had before his sleep, Legolas still felt absolutely exhausted, his head felt light and fuzzy, he still felt nauseous and he ached all over.

As Legolas held tightly onto Elrond, who was now rubbing reassuring circles on his back, tears once more ran down his face against his will. "Please make it stop, Elrond. Please just make it stop. Please," he whispered despairingly against Elrond, his tears dampening the Elf-Lord's robes.

"I will, mellon nin, I will," Elrond murmured, willing to say just about anything to reassure his young friend. When Legolas' cries had died down a little Elrond said gently, "Do you think you can go back to sleep now?" A small, tired nod from the blonde was his only response. "Good. Try and get some more rest, alright?" Carefully Elrond helped an exhausted Legolas lay back down amidst the mass of pillows and blankets.

"Can you please stay?" Legolas asked wearily.

Elrond took his hand and smiled. "Of course I can. You just rest now. I'll be right here if you need me." Legolas nodded and his eyes fluttered closed and he fell almost immediately back into sleep.

Although Elrond stayed right next to the Prince, he woke up several more times during the day before night fell. This was not the kind of sleep he needed though and each time he woke he seemed more exhausted and distressed than ever. It was gone midnight when he abruptly woke again and Elrond was there to comfort him, again pulling him into a hug at seeing the distress in his tired eyes. Instead of clinging to him though, Legolas just laid in Elrond's arms, too tired to do anything else despite his obvious desperation. The healer knew this couldn't continue throughout his recovery or it would take too long. It was hardly surprising that the young frightened prince was suffering; he had been through so much already and was still in a lot of pain.

When Legolas finally spoke, his whispered words almost broke Elrond's heart. "Please help me. Make it stop. Please."

Tears formed in Elrond's eyes and he nodded, rubbing the prince's back reassuringly as Legolas just laid passively against him.

"Alright, Legolas," he said, his voice catching at seeing the Elf like this. He carefully pulled away and was met with exhausted yet expressive sapphire eyes that almost begged with Elrond for help. "Let's make it stop, alright? I'm going to help you now." Legolas nodded weakly, closing his eyes in what was most likely relief. "Alright, lie back down." Legolas did as he was bidden with Elrond's help. "That's it. I'm going to give you a sedative. It will help you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep," the healer explained, walking over to his healing supplies and mixing the correct powders into a glass of water. He returned to the bed and helped Legolas sit up again. "Drink this slowly." Legolas sipped at the sweet-smelling liquid, ignoring the horrible taste, trusting Elrond's skills. "There you go. It won't take long to take effect."

Elrond eased Legolas back down, pulling the covers back over, making sure he was warm and comfortable enough. He knew that under the circumstances sedation was dangerous but he couldn't allow Legolas to suffer any longer. It was just cruel to leave him in this state.

After about a minute Legolas' eyes became almost too heavy to keep open. Elrond noticed him fighting sleep, obviously afraid of what he might see in his dreams. "It's alright, Legolas. Sleep now. I'm right here if you need anything. Just rest now."

Legolas allowed his eyes to slip shut as Elrond's soothing voice lulled him into the sleep he so desperately needed. "Thank you," he breathed before sleep finally claimed him.

"You're welcome," Elrond smiled, stroking Legolas' hair back from his pale face.

~*~

When Legolas finally woke again, it was slowly and painfully. His fever had practically vanished and he no longer shivered and trembled but his muscles were now weak and aching from the recent strain of his illness. His head was fuzzy and it took him a few moments before he even registered the bright sunshine that streamed through the windows, shining right onto his bed, making him feel more warm and comfortable than he had felt in a long time.

"Hello there," a familiar voice greeted, bringing Legolas back from falling once more into sleep. "How are you feeling?" the person asked. Legolas finally recognised the voice as Elrond and turned sleepy eyes to the dark-haired Elf, who was stood by his bed. He didn't expect an answer and Legolas didn't provide one; he was just too tired to speak right then, not to mention the fact his sluggish mind couldn't work out anything to say.

"Ion nin," another voice came from beside him.

He recognised that voice and it allowed him to croak out, "Ada."

Thranduil's pale but smiling face came into view and for the first time Legolas felt his father holding his hand tightly. "Good morning, Legolas." The Prince went to sit up, wanting to see that his father was alright but both Elrond and Thranduil stopped him. "No, no. Don't get up, ion nin. Shhh stay still." Legolas stopped trying to push himself up, tired from even that small effort.

"You're alright," Legolas whispered in relief at seeing his father was well.

"I'm fine, ion nin. It's you we have been concerned about," Thranduil smiled down at his sleepy son.

"How long have I been asleep," Legolas murmured, thinking from the level of tiredness he was currently feeling that it could only have been a couple of hours.

"Nearly three days," Elrond answered in Thranduil's place.

"Three days," Legolas exclaimed, shocked that so much time had passed.

"You earned it, so I hear," Thranduil smiled.

"Indeed, he did," Elrond confirmed, looking pointedly down at Legolas. The prince merely nodded and closed his eyes; this conversation was so tiring.

"How is everything?" he asked with what seemed to the last of his dwindling reserve of strength.

"Everything's fine. Don't worry about it," Thranduil answered quickly, smoothing his son's hair back.

The young prince opened his eyes again, looking pointedly up at the King.

It was Elrond who answered more truthfully, knowing the vague answer wouldn't satisfy. "Frodo is much better; he's up and eating breakfast last I heard, just as a Hobbit should be. Gimli and Aragorn are both fine and helping those still displaying symptoms, although that number is fast reducing. And Mirkwood's people are beginning to rebuild the kingdom. The cure worked wonders. Oh, and your father has disobeyed every single piece of medical advice I have given him and has not left your side since he woke and found you unwell." Legolas opened his eyes and smiled weakly up at his father, who rolled his eyes at Elrond's 'advice'. "And you are just about the luckiest Elf in Mirkwood. There were a few times we honestly thought we'd lost you in these past three days. But you pulled through."

"And Ada?" Legolas asked.

"Recovering nicely," Elrond reassured. Legolas nodded, closing his eyes again almost too tired to keep them open anymore. When he forced himself to focus once more on Elrond and his father, the healer smiled down at him. "You rest now, Legolas. Your body is still recovering. There will plenty of time for more talk over the next few days."

Almost immediately, Legolas slipped back into his comfortingly deep and dreamless sleep, allowing his exhausted body to begin to recover from the ravaging it had recently received.

~*~

**To Be Concluded…**

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**Translations**

**Mellon nin – **My friend

**Ion nin – **My son

**Ada – **Dad

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**A/N: There's only the epilogue left now. It rounds up the story but also leads into the upcoming sequel.**


	25. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing Tolkien created.

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**Mirkwood's Plague**

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**Chapter 25 ~ Epilogue**

**~*~**

Thranduil kept a firm, steadying arm around Legolas as well as keeping a thick, warm cloak tightly wrapped around his young son. It wasn't particularly cold outside at the moment but the king wanted his son well protected from any further discomfort or harm, a difficult – almost impossible - task considering the dire task that lay ahead of them that morning.

It had only been a week since Legolas had collapsed and the cure had been administered to all the people of Mirkwood. It had taken a while, especially to reach all the villages around the forest but everyone had been given the vital medicine that would save their lives.

This morning was the first time that the King had addressed his people since this crisis started and almost the entire kingdom – or what remained of it at least - had turned out to hear what Thranduil had to say. People, still recovering from the disease, had dragged themselves from their warm beds to listen to their ruler's words, each one of them eager to hear what he had to say. As impressed as they were by their Prince's leadership in a crisis they still loved their King even more and needed his reassurance more than anything.

The prince had also insisted he be there to face his people. Despite having been present during the plague he hadn't actually had a lot of contact with the majority of his people. Now he felt the need to face them, find out how they were recovering.

Elrond had at first forbidden it; telling the exhausted prince that he still needed some much deserved rest. He had argued with the younger Elf that he was still too unwell to get out of bed, much less go outside into the cold air. Legolas had been stubbornly insistent, telling his healer and his father that should he be denied the opportunity he would sneak out of the healing halls and make his own way to the palace balcony. Given the alternative Elrond and Thranduil had reluctantly agreed under the strict condition that he keep warm and should he get too tired he would let someone know immediately.

His friends had also been invited by the king to be given special mention for their efforts during the plague. The only one not attending was Frodo, whom Elrond had informed them was too sick to be outside. He was far more vulnerable than the Elves and so was currently tucked up in bed with Sam at his side for company.

Legolas walked slowly alongside his father up to the balcony. Truthfully, he was already tired from the short walk from his rooms to the balcony from which Thranduil made all his public announcements. Not that he would tell Thranduil or Elrond that. Unfortunately, the healer had probably already noticed his fatigue but he held his tongue for the time being.

Thranduil held on tightly to his son's arm – although Legolas suspected it was as much for his own support as his son's. The King still suffered from his own illness despite the fact he did his best to hide it from his son. Legolas was seldom fooled by his father's false assurances.

They reached the balcony and found Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf and two of the Hobbits already waiting for them.

"Estel," Thranduil greeted with a strange smile as he helped his son up the last step.

"King Thranduil. Legolas," Aragorn smiled warmly at his friend and Legolas returned it weakly.

"Estel, can you please fetch my son a warm blanket?" Thranduil asked abruptly when he felt the prince shivering slightly.

"I'm fine, Ada, I don't need a blanket," Legolas insisted with a disturbingly weak voice.

"You're cold," the king insisted.

"I'm fine."

Before Thranduil could speak again Elrond intervened, knowing they were just as stubborn as each other and the argument could go on for a while if not stopped. "Thranduil, I'm sure if Legolas gets too cold he will inform us. That was the agreement, after all, was it not, Legolas?"

"Yes, Elrond," Legolas smiled even as he pulled his cloak tighter around him.

"Good."

A servant approached them, himself wrapped up warmly, and bowed stiffly to his king. "My Lord, the people are ready and waiting."

"Good, thank you," Thranduil said, turning back to his son. "Are you sure you're feeling up to this. You can go back to your rooms if you wish."

"Ada, I want to be here," Legolas insisted for the third time that morning.

"Alright. How do I look?" he then asked, smoothing out his fine robes.

Truthfully, the King looked pale and ruffled. His robes had not been properly readied for him as usual because of the lack of staff. So many of them had been affected that few were capable of coming to work and those that did brave it lacked the energy to do too much and were mostly kept on keeping the essentials going. And that didn't include making the King look presentable.

"You look fine, mellon nin," Elrond answered with a smile. He doubted very much that people would really care what Thranduil looked like. Legolas had already informed them that he had also been affected by the disease so they would understand his appearance.

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil released his son's arm. Legolas swayed slightly on his feet but was immediately steadied by both Elrond and Aragorn, who discreetly asked if he was alright. He just nodded and turned his attention to his father, who boldly approached the edge of the balcony.

Predictably, his appearance was greeted with a loud cheer from his people. They always knew that in times of great peril Thranduil would be there for them, to help them through it and they trusted him.

A small smile crossed Legolas' face at the sound. It was good to hear his people mildly happy again and for Thranduil to be in control. His kingdom didn't seem nearly as intimidating now someone else was running it. Elrond also smiled across at him and pulled him into a brief hug.

After a moment of cheers and clapping, Thranduil raised his hand and almost immediately the noise calmed and everyone was concentrating on their Lord as he began to speak.

"These past weeks have been some of the hardest we have ever been faced with and all of you have suffered immensely at the hands of this disease. But the dark times are now beginning to clear and we can start to begin to rebuild our lives and our kingdom." Everyone was listening intently to the King's every word. "You fought through this and have come out the other side. I know how much you have suffered and that there is still a long way to go. We have yet to build our land back to its previous glory and we still mourn the loss of our loved ones." He paused here as he remembered the death of his own son and everyone in the crowd also became lost in memories for a moment. "However, we are strong and we can work through the repercussions of this terrible plague. I have faith in each and every one of you and I am proud of how you have handled this.

"However, it was not me who pulled you through the worst of those times, but my son." Legolas glanced up at his father, who looked around at his son. "Prince Legolas fought against all odds to bring our people as safely as possible through this terrible time. With complete disregard for his own well-being, Prince Legolas - aided by Lord Elrond of Rivendell; Elessar, High King of Gondor and Gimli, son of Gloin - solved this dreadful problem, thus preventing further loss of life. It cannot have been easy after the demise of Prince Rumil," Thranduil's voice cracked slightly at this but he continued. "And because of his bravery we all owe Legolas our lives and I hope that none of us ever forget that fact."

The crowd suddenly burst into applause again, cheering in agreement at what had just been said. Thranduil turned around and gently took his son's arm, taking some of his weight, disentangling him from Aragorn and Elrond and leading him forward to meet his cheering public. They clapped as he shyly stepped forward, smiling nervously down at his people. He didn't have the strength to say anything just yet, not to mention the fact that he had never really had to speak publically before.

**The End**

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**Ada – **Dad

**Mellon nin – **My friend

~*~

**A/N: Ok, that's it, folks. It's all over. Finished. Complete.**

**Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed this fic, I appreciate it so much. You've all been great and I hope very much that you've enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**There is a sequel coming very soon – as soon as I get around to copying it onto my computer – but I do have to warn you: it is very different. It is called 'The Aftermath' and it revolves almost entirely around Mirkwood's recovery from the plague (with one or two little twists along the way, of course). It also will involve a romantic relationship between Legolas and Glorfindel. I know it veers off the established plot but I assure you it is not a slash story, it's a comfort story so don't worry about that. If you don't like that kind of thing then please don't read it and make yourselves uncomfortable, I think this chapter rounds off the story quite well anyway and the rest is just a kind of extremely extended epilogue. If that kind of thing doesn't bother you then please, please check it out and let me know what you think of it.**

**Again, I really appreciate all your support so…**

**Thank you all for reading and thank you if you left a review.**

**See you soon.**

**Freddie23.**


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